


Four

by Mickey_D



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Album fic, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Famous Louis, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Up, Non-Famous Harry, Non-Famous Liam, Non-Famous Niall, Non-Famous Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:46:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5450543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mickey_D/pseuds/Mickey_D
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has been in love with his best friend for four years now. His friend hasn't exactly been around for those four years, but that hasn't stopped him. And Harry's not mad at him for being absent. His best friend is Louis Tomlinson, The New Prince of Pop. </p>
<p>It takes a surprise trip planned by Louis' mother to get Harry out of the tiny town they grew up in and into Louis' life again. They reconnect, but all too soon, Harry has to go back to the real world. That's really when...well, to put it bluntly, shit hits the fan. There's an...incident (shouting, paparazzi, random boys) and Harry decides he's had enough. It's time to move on. It's been too long as it is. No need to pine after a pop star any longer. He's got things to do, people to see, the successful relationships of his friends to ignore. He's fine, really. Everything is fine...until his stupid pop star best friend shows up at the little bookstore he works at. That's not so fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Steal My girl

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I feel like it's been forever since I've given y'all something big like this. I would have been posting sooner, but...well you see, it's a surprise for my friend Marshall. I'm hoping he's going to take the time to read this.
> 
> MARSHALL! HAPPY CHRISTMAS!!! 
> 
> I know this isn't finished just yet, but I wanted to give you what I could before I traveled. I hope that you like this. Riley has been helping me along, and she thinks it will go over well, so, you'll have to let me know what you think. Like live-text reactions and all that good stuff. Love you, Boo! Enjoy!

Watching Louis on stage was electric. The crowd had been buzzing and restless since they’d filed into their seats nearly four hours ago. They’d been enthusiastic for the opening act (apparently more aware of who it was than Harry), but there wasn’t an exact word to describe them now as they remained transfixed on their idol. And why wouldn’t you want to watch him? Louis was everywhere all at once with his bright smile and his brilliant voice coming over the speakers clearing the screams that hadn’t stopped since he stepped on stage. Louis was working the crowd into a frenzy that made Harry slightly sick to his stomach with nerves. He knew Loius’ security was the best money could afford, but Harry knew teenagers were another type of beast. (Harry was barely twenty himself, so he probably couldn't say much with regards to the whole teenage-beast bit, but he hadn’t even liked teenagers when he was one.) Harry could just see a horde of them screaming and overwhelming the team and tackling Louis and hurting him. There was no doubt in his mind these kids could do some serious damage. There’d definitely be bruises and scratches. The tackle would probably cause some sort of head injury. They could break something if they were eager enough. Louis would perform tomorrow anyway. Crutches would be a little too much, so he’d probably have someone wheel him around in a wheelchair. And he definitely wouldn’t tell anyone the true story. He’d let the drama and the speculation build to the ultimate crescendo before telling his own outrageous story of some prank gone wrong. It’d be an excellent story; Louis could always tell a good story.

“Now, you all know my mum right?” Louis asked his crowd. They all screamed unintelligibly. Apparently it was a good enough response for the man on stage. “Good, good. She’s quite the woman. Makes good casseroles. Maybe I’ll invite you all over one night for dinner and have her make one.” There was a lot more screaming now. “I’ll talk to her and send out the details.” His smiles was teasing, but Harry could see him “accidentally” sending out the details and everyone showing up for one of Jay’s casseroles. “But anyway, you’re probably wondering why I’m bringing my mum up at a concert. She called me today and said I had to sing a special song. Apparently it’s a special show. She didn't tell me why though. I haven’t been able to suss out what she meant. It’s killing me, really. Any of you lot have any ideas?” Harry was amazed these people still had voice enough to scream. “Well, I’m sure it’ll hit me at some point. Maybe there’s a pretty girl waiting for me back at the hotel,” Louis mused, “or, you know, a pretty boy.”

The crowd lost it; they went insane. Harry’s mouth dropped at the sheer volume of noise these people produced. It was so foreign to him. And then the music started playing over Louis’ laughter. Harry just stared at the boy on stage. This song hadn't been performed in years. It was one of his earlier ones and Harry’s absolute favorite. the crowd’s sing along was a bit spotty at first as they re-familiarized themselves with the words, but they were belting it out soon enough. Harry was...well he was almost right there with them. He was not about to let the stagehands and other assorted staff overhear him, but he was singing. He never once thought he’d ever be at one of Louis’ concerts, much less singing along backstage. Ten hours ago he was just a kid at a bookstore. Ten hours ago he was…

 

Harry flipped the page of the magazine he was pretending to read. Today was a slow day at the store. Not that there were ever any busy days. The first few days of school were “busy” when everyone was trying get all their books for English. The rush never lasted, though, and Harry was grateful for that. The rush always broke up the usual monotony, but there were always so many people. Harry wasn’t exactly a people person. He prefered his few close friends and quiet nights in over large crowds of strangers and rowdy parties. It was one of the few reasons he’d never left the small town he grew up in. He knew everyone here, he knew their general routines, and he could easily spot and avoid strangers. He picked working at the bookstore over the bakery because hardly anyone came in the bookstore. His social interactions were kept to a minimum and he was basically paid to do whatever he wanted all day. Usually he just flipped through magazines scanning the articles and looking at the pictures. The manager was hardly ever in, so most of the time it was just Harry and Zayn. His coworker was quiet, but not in the same I’m-terrified-of-people kind of way like Harry, more in a I’m-so-done-with-people sort of way. He sat next to Harry reading a different book every week. A quick glance to his side told him Zayn was working through another Dickens novel. One of Zayn’s trademark smirks was playing across his face as he turned the page. Harry saw that smirk more than he saw Zayn’s actual smile. He could probably count the number of times he’d seen Zayn’s true smile on one hand; twice when his sisters had come in before they left to visit with their dad in France and then once more when a stranger had come in looking for some cookbook his aunt wanted. (Zayn had never moved to do his job faster. He’d basically shoved Harry away from the register.)

A ding from the electric bell on the door pulled Harry away from his magazine pictures and out of his head. He had a pretty good idea of who it was, but he always liked to make sure he knew who was here. Craning his neck he caught the familiar bouncing ponytail and heard a rather familiar laugh. Marshall and Micaela were here. Harry smiled to himself as he returned to his magazine. Micaela and her friend Marshall had moved here almost six months ago. They’d been able to settle in quickly thanks to a couple of contacts Marshall had. Micaela had taken up writing for the local paper. Harry had made a point of reading each of her pieces and offering questions and comments to her. She was always smiling and loud, though this was usually only around people she knew well. Otherwise she was on the quieter side of things. Marshall was usually with her when she came in; he was at work if he wasn’t. Harry knew that Marshall was probably looking for something work or Louis Tomlinson related while Micaela made a beeline for where her book was supposed to be. Her favorite author had just published a new book, and the shipment had arrived last night. Micaela had been counting down the days until it arrived. Today was the day and Harry had hidden the books behind the front counter just to mess with her.

“Harry!” Micaela shouted.

Zayn looked at the curly haired boy over his book. “What did you do now?” he asked.

Harry knocked his foot against the box of books tucked under the front counter. Zayn shook his head and chuckled. Harry had...Zayn wouldn’t call it a dark side; it was more of a gray side. A slightly mischievous side he would use to mess with his friends. “She’s been counting down the days,” was all Harry had for an explanation.

“Where are they, Harry?” Micaela demanded when she appeared before them.

Harry gave her a sugar-sweet smile. “Hi, Micaela. It’s nice to see you again.” Micaela fixed him with an unimpressed glare. “What can I help you with?”

“Harry Styles don’t make me hurt you,” Micaela sassed him, hand on her hip, just as the manager (who was actually here today) walked up with, “What’s going on?”

“Hey, Niall,” Harry greeted the manager. “I’m just messing with my friend.”

The manager turned to the girl next to him. Harry watched as Niall took her in, the teasing look melting into something akin to shock perhaps. Micaela raised her chin once Niall had finished looking her over as if she was daring him to make a comment. “You should give her what she wants, Haz,” Niall finally said.

Harry’s own grin fell off his face at that. Niall was always up for whatever mischief his employees got up to. “But, Niall!” Harry spluttered.

“Just do it, Harry,” Niall insisted, fixing the boy with a pleading look.

Harry bent down and lifted the box of books up onto the counter, handing a triumphant looking Micaela a copy. Harry accepted her payment with a scowl. He always enjoyed playing with Micaela because he always got a great reaction, and now Niall had gone and ruined it. Micaela looked away from her book when she heard Marshall clear his throat by the door. Usually the two of them stopped to hang around for a bit, but Marshall was definitely over-dressed for a trip to the bookstore and clearly nervous. Micaela said, “We’ve got an important lunch to get to with one of Marshall’s bosses. You wanna come over for dinner later?” Harry and Zayn nodded, and then Micaela was flouncing out the door with Niall’s eyes on her. Harry went back to his magazine, Zayn just kept reading being wholly unhelpful, and Niall seemed frozen in place. “Can you get me an invite to dinner?” he finally asked.

Harry looked up from his magazine with a perplexed expression that Zayn was also giving their manager. “Why?” Harry asked.

“Because I’d like to get to know her better.”

“No,” Zayn said leaving no room for argument.

“Why not?”

“Because she’s not your type,” Zayn explained.

“And you’re not hers,” Harry added.

“What do either of you know?” Niall grumbled.

“Too much, actually,” Harry teased though he was distracted by his phone starting to ring. Only two people would call him, and only one was a viable option right now. It was his mother, and something important must be happening if she was calling him at work. He excused himself from whatever conversation Niall and Zayn were still having. Harry was trusting Zayn would dissuade Niall of his notion to pursue Micaela. Niall wasn’t the settling down type (evidenced by his frequent trips and multiple girls in one week’s time) and Micaela was (talking about kids and dogs and white picket fences). Harry took his phone outside before answering. He appreciated at least semi-privacy when making a phone call. It was already trying enough to talk on the phone; Niall would make comments while he was trying to talk and this was obviously important. “Hey, mum. What’s wrong?”

“Hi, honey. Nothing’s wrong. Why?”

“Well, you usually don’t call me in the middle of the day while I’m at work.”

“Speaking of work, do you think Niall will be able to do without you today and tomorrow?”

“Mom, what’s going on?” Harry tried again, confusion bleeding into his response.

“You remember Jay right? Louis’ mom.”

“Of course I remember her.” Jay had been a big part of Harry’s life until a few years ago. They saw each other every now and then, but not as much as they used to.

“Well, she’s got something for you. Can you come home?”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to. Let me just check…” Harry ducked back into the store to interrupt Niall and Zayn with, “Can I go home?”

“Sure, sure,” Niall said. “What’s up?”

Harry frowned down at the phone in his hand. “I...I don’t know really. My mom won’t exactly tell me. She doesn’t sound upset, and it involves Jay, but I have to go.”

Niall nodded and waved him away. “Go, go. I’ll clock you out.”

Harry told his mom he was on his way home before ending the call with her. He began his walk home thinking of anything Jay might have for him. All the clothes that had been forgotten there over the years had been returned. He couldn’t recall anything missing that would have been left over at her house. (There were some missing socks, but his primary suspect in that was the dryer.) Nothing notable had happened that Jay would want to talk to Anne or Harry about, and if there was, Anne was always Jay’s first choice. She was a mother; Jay was a mother. Harry was just a kid who...knew Jay’s son. Harry rubbed his head as that complexity bubbled up once more. He really hoped Jay was just returning a sock. But what if it was about--?

“There you are!” Harry’s sister said as she pulled open the door. “It took you long enough,” she teased.

“It’s literally been five minutes,” Harry said.

“I know, I know. C’mon.” Harry’s sister pulled him into the kitchen where Jay and Anne were sitting at the table. There was a manila envelope on the table in front of Jay. It caught Harry’s attention what with it looking so official, but he didn’t get a chance to ask about it or even announce himself because his mom was smiling widely and Jay was giving him a hug.

“How are you, Harry?” she asked.

“Fine, I guess. Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” They were all smiling at him; it was unnerving honestly.

“I’m sending you on a little trip to see an old friend,” Jay replied. “It’s just until tomorrow afternoon. You’ll be back by then. If we had a little more time, I’d do some more explaining, but everything you need to know is in here.” She handed him the envelope. “I do know I’m asking a lot, but it would mean a lot to me if you’d do this.”

Harry felt nerves flutter insistently in his tummy. He couldn’t just leave could he? “Jay, I can’t...I don’t know…” Harry started, gripping the envelope harder.

Jay stopped him, though, with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got everything covered here. It’s all taken care of. You’ve got a plane to catch, and I got a car for you.”

“But where am I going?” Harry asked. While he trusted them, he needed to know where he was going at least.

“A concert,” was all Jay said before Harry found himself in the back of a sleek car with a packed duffle bag in the seat next to him.

Harry’s mom gave him a kiss before the car pulled away headed for the airport. In the envelope he discovered a ticket and pages of instructions. He read them once in the car, then several times on the plane. (He’d basically had them memorized by the time he landed.)

 

Ten hours ago Harry had just been a kid working at a bookstore looking at pictures of Louis Tomlinson in a magazine. Now he was watching Louis perform from backstage at a concert he never thought he’d ever go to. Louis was singing the last few lines of Harry’s favorite song. Honestly it was all a bit odd. It wasn’t like Harry and Louis had kept in touch or anything. Louis had made it big; he didn’t have time for old friends like Harry. He had music to make, people to see, places to be. This sudden trip Harry’s mother had literally shoved him on was the most traveling he’d done in the twenty years of his life. He’d gone to the next town over for a field trip with his sixth grade class, but other than that he’d stayed put. He was happy where he was and made friends of the same sort of people. Niall came and went a lot, but he always came back. Zayn literally never seemed to venture outside the bookstore. Micaela and Marshall were settled in, though there was a whisper or two about them moving to a nearby city. Selfishly, Harry wanted them both to stay, but he knew their dreams stretched farther than his. (They were much farther than Harry’s, actually, since his barely even reached the gas station at the edge of town.) The only friend he’d ever made that left was the boy who’d just finished his favorite song.

Watching Louis now, Harry started to seriously think about this whirlwind trip he’d been rushed into. Among all the instructions, there’d been a letter from Jay. Phrases like “You’ve always been so important…”, “He wouldn’t ever complain or anything…”, and “It’s not really fair of me to ask you…” stood out to him suddenly. He’d been swept up by Louis’ staff as soon as he’d landed and everything had moved so quickly with little time to consider anything other than keeping his nerves under control. Harry saw it as Louis turned away from the audience to face the band behind him as the song came to a close. It was just a flicker of something that didn’t match the bright grin Louis graced the crowd with in the next second. Everything that was supposed to come to him crashed together. He was why tonight was special. Louis had no idea he was here (“He doesn’t actually know…”). Jay was asking him to help Louis with whatever just flickered across his face. What did she expect him to do? They hadn’t talked much in the last four years. There’d been birthday wishes last year, but that’d been pretty much it. Harry, of course, had followed Louis’ career in the tabloids.

**Small Town to the Big City**

**Tommo at the Top**

**New Record for a New Record**

**Pop’s Newest Prince Out Partying**

**Louis Tomlinson is OUT**

**Time for a Change: New Management for Louis**

**Label Threatens to Drop Louis**

(Louis celebrated the opening of this tour with a bit of alcohol induced stupidity.)

Each headline splashed glossy photos of Louis with some person or a trophy of some sort. The content of each story was less and less substantial the more was written. The teen magazines were definitely worse than the others with their crazy speculations, but they did have better pictures. Harry really only looked at the pictures. He had a memory of Louis and he’d rather not have that tarnished. The theories about Louis’ professional and personal lives were enough to make his head hurt and worry chew at his chest. The questions that arose from it all stood clearer in his mind with help from Jay’s letter. Did Louis actually like his job? Did he ever get lonely? Was Louis truly happy? Was he really with whoever he was reported to be with? Did he miss Harry as much as Harry missed him?

And Harry would have lost himself in the contemplations that had kept him up so many nights before, but at the moment Harry brought as much of his attention as he could to Louis. The singer was starting right at him with some indecipherable expression that made Harry’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

  
  



	2. Change Your Ticket

If Harry had been nervous before he got on the plane and landed backstage at Louis Tomlinson’s concert, it paled in comparison to how he was feeling now. He barely registered the last parts of Louis’ show. He had hoped that Louis would be happy to see him, but that look...It could have been shock, but Harry was pretty sure there’d been a bit of anger. Maybe Louis really never wanted to see Harry again. (Their communication had been sub-par.) Jay seemed to think this little reunion was a great idea; Harry was starting to disagree.

“Mr. Styles, come this way.”

Harry followed the little staff woman through the maze of backstage unsure of where they were going now. They passed a couple of girls who were obviously “Louis’ Biggest Fan”. Harry frowned at them. They couldn’t be more than thirteen, probably called their obsession for Louis love, and conducted themselves like small children at the mere mention of Louis Tomlinson. Zayn and Niall would probably call him a hypocrite citing his stashed posters, hours of magazine browsing, and Louis Tomlinson playlists evidence of his own obsession. Harry would beg to differ. He was a simple fan not prone to hysterics and tears when Louis’ face popped up on the television. And other than Jay, no one knew Louis like Harry did; no one could claim to love him. (Not that Harry loved him romantically or anything like that, but he was the one fan who could claim that if he wanted to.)

The girls were soon lost in the buzz of backstage. Harry nearly got lost himself, but his little staff woman would always look back for him. When they arrived at their destination, it was very obvious where they’d been headed, and Harry felt a little dumb for not figuring it out sooner. The stagehand left him with a quick instruction to just go in before losing herself around the corner at the end of the hall. Harry was marooned outside a half-open door with a piece of paper taped to it with Louis’ name in all caps and bold across the center. Was this really as simple as just walking in? Shouldn’t he knock? What if he scared Louis or caught him half-naked? That would be really awkward. Louis could become even angrier if Harry just barged into his room without so much as knocking. (Harry had concluded that Louis was indeed unhappy to see him.)

He raised his hand to knock. It would be a waste of a trip to not see someone he still considered a friend. Just before his hand connected with the door, the chaos of backstage dimmed and Harry was fully focused on Louis’ voice. The boy was talking to someone. A little spark of curiosity burned in his chest. He wanted to know who Louis was talking to, and while he was well aware eavesdropping was frowned upon, he still found himself leaning closer to the door to pick up on everything Louis said.

“A little warning would've been nice, Ma...We haven’t exactly kept in touch...It was better that way…”

Harry saw Louis sitting in a spinning chair. He’d changed out of his last outfit from the stage and was only in a pair of sweatpants and a beanie over his damp hair. (Apparently Louis had found time to clean up a little bit at least.) He looked good, better than any of his pictures. There were more tattoos than when he’d last seen him riding away in Jay’s minivan or what he’d been able to see in the latest photos. His curiosity turned from Louis' call with his mother to a story behind the black ink scrawled over his skin. Maybe there wasn’t a reason and Louis just put pictures on himself and Harry almost loved that more than a story. Louis was just doing what he wanted no matter what anyone thought.

Harry was pulled from his musings as Louis’ voice suddenly sounded very close to him. “Love, ya, Ma. I gotta go.” Harry scrambled back as Louis pulled open the door. “You could’ve just come in ya know.”

“I didn’t want to just come in while you were on the phone,” Harry tried to explain, but he was talking to his feet more than he was talking to Louis. Embarrassment scratched under his ears and burned across his cheeks.

“C’mon,” Louis sighed, grabbing Harry by the front of his shirt and pulled him into the dressing room. “So you’re why tonight's special?” Louis asked as he flopped into the same chair he occupied earlier.

Harry smoothed his shirt while taking a look around. Louis’ clothes were strewn about (not surprising in the least) as were a few pairs of shoes and a couple of empty bags. There were a couple of pictures taped to the mirror. A couple were of family, a couple were of Louis and some other celebrity, and Harry could see a stack of photos that weren’t displayed, but appeared regularly looked at with creases at the corners and worn out edges. Why weren’t they out in the open like the others?

“It’s pretty nice,” Louis said waving a hand to address the room in its entirety. “I’ve been in some scary places.”

“Yeah?” Harry prompted. Surely there was a story behind that.

Louis just nodded and looked down at the phone he was twisting in his hands. It was strange to have the curly haired boy in front of him after four years. There were so many things he wanted to say, stories he wanted to tell, secrets he wanted to reveal. It was his fault they hadn’t talked properly in four years, and, with Harry in front of him, it’d never been as painful as it is now. “I’ve missed you,” Louis blurted out, immediately blushing afterwards; he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

The revelation seemed to shock Harry as much as it had Louis. He gave his once upon a time best friend a shy almost sad little smile and said, “I’ve missed you too.”

“Right,” Louis said nodding to himself and seeming to pull himself together before saying, “Let’s get out of here.” The pop star hopped out of his chair and crossed the room to find a mostly clean shirt for the side to the hotel. Harry just stood quietly unsure of what to do with himself as Louis got ready. Jay had a car waiting for him and a hotel room settled. Then there was the plane side back tomorrow. This wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured his reunion with Louis. There were supposed to be wide smiles that made their cheeks hurt and hugs so tight they couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t supposed to be awkward or stilted or unsure. And maybe Harry was the one causing the awkwardness because he was convinced Louis was mad at him for coming. Louis wasn’t exactly being helpful, though. Harry remembered barely being able to get a word in because Louis was such a chatterbox. Now he’d said all of three or four full sentences and Harry had managed to say five words.

“The car is this way,” Louis explained. Harry followed him out of the stadium to a back alley sheltered from prying cameras and screaming fans. “Do you have your own car?” Louis asked when he realized there were three cars instead of the usual two. (One was a decoy to distract fans from Louis’ actual ride.)

“Your mom took care of everything. Got me a hotel room and everything.”

Louis wrinkled his nose. “You’re not staying with me?”

“Do you want me to?”

Louis turned his head sharply to look at Harry properly. What was he on about? “Of course I want you to stay with me. It’d be silly for you to have come all this way and not spend more than five minutes with me.” He took Harry’s wrist in his hand and tugged him into the car. It wasn't until the cars were pulling away from the stadium that he asked, “Why did you think I didn't want you to come with me?”

Harry felt a little silly, but he told Louis the truth anyway. “I thought you were mad at me for coming. You didn’t exactly sound pleased I was here when you were talking to your mom.”

Louis scoffed reaching over to pinch Harry’s side. Harry, unused to Louis’ version of affection after so long, yelped and jerked away, but he was smiling finally. “I’m not mad, you dork. I would have liked a little warning so I could have made more plans. Your flight home is tomorrow right?”

“Yeah.”

Then Louis was tapping away on his phone and the ride was quiet. Harry wasn’t nervous or uncomfortable now, though. The silence was comfortable like four years hadn’t passed them by without a glance backwards. It reminded him of late summer nights in his backyard when he’d sit on the old wooden swing he and his sister used to spend hours playing on while Louis laid on his back in the grass gently nudging Harry with his foot so he’d keep swinging back and forth. They didn't’ talk much those nights. Harry would make Louis look at the sky as it blushed under the moon’s peeking eyes. Louis would point out a cloud or two with funny shapes. Other than those rare comments, they were quiet. It was nice to be so comfortable with someone because Harry wasn't one to chatter away and Louis liked his quiet time away from his younger sisters. Harry’s mom would inevitably all them in once the stars were sparkling above them. Louis would traipse home with his hands in his pockets leaving Harry watching him from his front porch with yet another dandelion crown perched on his head and the ghost of Louis’ goodnight kiss warming his cheek.

“Finally,” Louis mumbled under his breath drawing Harry away from his backyard.

They’d reached the hotel and Louis was already out of the car before the engine had been cut. they were in a garage, and Harry stayed close to Louis as they made their way inside. He could just imagine a horde of over excited teenagers popping out from behind one of the support columns and attacking them. He fully realized it was irrational. It was rather echoey in the empty garage, so if there was an ambush waiting for them , they’d need to be holding very still and silent to avoid detection. And they’d have to grapple with security, who were imposing from far away but slightly terrifying up close and personal in Harry’s opinion. Telling himself to relax didn’t actually work until they were safe behind closing elevator doors.

“I thought I was going to lose you there for a bit,” Louis joked once the elevator began moving up.

“What?” Harry asked almost startled by Louis’ voice after the quiet.

“You looked like you were about to pass out on our walk in. I kept looking back at your to try and get you next to me, but you kept looking around like someone was going to jump out and attack us.”

Harry smiled as his cheeks burned He hadn’t realized he’d been so obvious. “I was sort of afraid of that,” Harry heard himself saying. He’d never really been able to keep any passing thought to himself around Louis.

“They haven’t actually found me yet, which is surprising. To be fair though, I’ve only been here for a few hours so there hasn’t been time for word to get out. They’ll all be here by morning.”

When the elevators opened, Harry fell in step with Louis, waiting patiently for him to open the door. Inside the room, Louis headed straight for the mini fridge that had been stocked per his request. He offered Harry a beer, but Harry declined. Louis just shrugged and took both bottles to the couch with him. He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, took a sip, and fully relaxed into the couch with a relieved sigh. Harry was less dramatic when he took a seat on the couch. He curled up on the cushion next to Louis with his feet tucked under him and his hands folded in his lap. He just watched Louis drink. It was oddly thrilling, for some reason, almost erotic. But perhaps that was more about the memory of those lips than how Louis lazily tipped the bottle up and swallowed a moment later with the bottle leaving his lips only slightly redder than they were before.

“Wanna play a game?” Louis asked.

“A game?” Harry asked after not fully comprehending the question with his slightly foggy mind.

“Yeah,” Louis said with a nod to the television set in front of them. Now Harry noticed the multiple gaming systems set up in front of it. Louis continued talking,” My team wanted me to have a more...constructive way to let off steam since we’re going to be here a while.”

That begged the question, “What do you usually do?”

Louis shrugged. “This and that. Most of the time I end up at some club that’s ‘all the rage’. These outings never last long, but apparently they’re ‘detrimental to [my ]image’.”

Harry’s mind harked back to the many articles he’d read an the pictures he scrutinized. They might not be detrimental--simple little fluff pieces people glossed over for the true scandals--but the slurred words during interviews, the nearly belligerent verbal lashings aimed at nosy cameras, and the catastrophe of five months ago were all “detrimental to [his] image”. Harry wasn’t going to point all that out now He’d find a way to mention it casually tomorrow, make Louis think about it, and then stay in his life. They didn’t need to go another four years without properly speaking.

“Do you have Mario Kart?” Harry asked pulling himself out of his thoughts.

Louis’ grin unfurled slowly. It was an old favorite of theirs saved for cold rainy days when snow would have been more welcome than rain. Harry wasn’t good at it, but Louis’ friend subscribed to the belief that practice makes perfect and Louis was all for helping his friends. He passed Harry as controller and kept on for himself. With everything set up, they settled on the couch. Louis won the majority of the games despite Harry’s attempts at sabotage and Louis’ attempts to let the poor boy win a couple of times.

“Enough of this,” Louis declared after winning his fifth race in a row. “Let’s get in bed.” Louis dropped his controller on the seat he vacated when he stood to stretch. “C’mon. I’ve got a spare toothbrush you can use.” Harry followed Louis into the bathroom where he was presented with a bright orange toothbrush still in its package. “I’ve forgotten them everywhere. Some maids have probably made a small fortunes selling my used toothbrushes.”

“Now that you mention it, I think I remember seeing something on Ebay along those lines.”

“Yeah?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Think it went for five bucks or something like that.”

Louis frowned, slowly pulling the toothbrush out of his mouth so he could properly speak. “Am I worth so little?” Harry nodded not eager to smear toothpaste across his chin like Louis had. Louis went back to brushing his teeth with some grumbles popping through the minty paste. “I forgot you could be mean,” Louis muttered once he’d spit into the sink.

“I’m not mean,” Harry said.

“You just told me I’m worth no more than five dollars.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Your toothbrush went for like three-hundred dollars. Better?”

“Much. C’mon.”

Then went back to the bedroom and Louis flopped onto the bed with his phone in hand. “What time was your flight tomorrow?”

“Five. I should be at the airport by two or three.”

“We’ve got plans. You’ll go back...Friday sound good?” That’s when I’m headed out. We’ve built a little mini break in.”

“Lou, I don’t know. That’s a lot of time. I’m not exactly prepared for a week away from home.” He also had work and classes to think about. And how was he going to get back? Jay had paid for his ticket for tomorrow. His mother would be expecting him home. He could always call her a let her know. He definitely wanted to spend more time with Louis, but their lives were so very different now. Would Louis be alright with him hanging around for so long? They could be seen together and then he’d be the subject of theories and gossip columns. He could be splashed across magazine covers.

“No need to worry about it. I’ve already taken care of it. Now, come to bed.”

It was an eerily familiar scene--aside from the fact that they were four years older and Louis definitely looked grown up. The pop star was grinning at Harry from his sprawled spot on the bed propped up by the pillows behind him. Butterflies fluttered in Harry’s tummy at the sight and the come hither motion Louis made with his finger. Just like the times before this, Harry nearly tripped on his own two feet in his haste to join Louis on the bed. Louis didn’t let him drown in his embarrassment, instead distracting him with a rough kiss and...Oh God, Harry had missed this. He’d missed this a lot more than he was willing to admit.

 


	3. No Control

Harry woke up early despite the late hour they’d stayed up to. He was warm and satisfied, if a little exhausted, with Louis tucked next to him snoring lightly. Harry closed his eyes, hoping he could find some way to go back to sleep, but he knew better. He’d never been good at falling back to sleep after he woke up in the morning. His brain would start running through the laundry list of things he needed to do that day, name all the worries he had to mull over, and scream for more sleep even though Harry was wide awake and making breakfast at that point. This morning Harry realized he really had no responsibilities. He’d need to call his mom to let her know that he’d be coming back later that week. Niall needed to know that he wasn’t going to be able to make it to work. Hopefully this hotel had a laundry service because Harry only had two outfits and he didn’t want to be stuck without clean clothes. He’d long outgrown all of Louis’ clothes. Speaking of...where exactly had his bag gotten to? It’d most likely been in the car he was supposed to take last night. Hopefully that driver had realized that and brought Harry’s bag here.

“I forgot how early you wake up. Go back to sleep,” Louis grumbled rolling away from him.

Harry felt a little guilty for waking Louis up, so he rolled out of bed to pad over to the couch where his jacket had been tossed carelessly last night. He dug his phone out of his pocket hoping it hadn’t died overnight. The desire to dig through Louis’ mess to find a charger did not burn bright in Harry’s chest. Luckily, his phone was just hanging on to life. He had a couple notifications from various social media and a string of text messages from friends back home.

 **Zayn:** Don’t forget to tell Micaela you won’t be at dinner. _Sent Yesterday 1:15 p.m._

 **Zayn:** Niall is singing love songs. I’m dying. _Sent Yesterday 3:30 p.m._

 **Zayn:** Niall followed me to Micaela and Marshall’s. He invited himself to dinner since you’re not available. _Sent Yesterday 6:06 p.m._

 

 **Micaela:** I thought this was going to be a business lunch, but it feels more like a date… _Sent Yesterday 1:37 p.m._

 **Micaela:** Dear me...I’m third wheeling so hard right now. And why is Zayn telling me you’re not coming to dinner? Are you alright? _Sent Yesterday 2:01 p.m._

 **Micaela:** So what’s the deal with this Niall character? _Sent Yesterday 9:15 p.m._

 

 **Marshall:** I’ve got big news! _Sent Yesterday 10:37 p.m._

 **Marshall:** Also, I’m in love. _Sent Yesterday 10:38 p.m._

 

 **Niall:** How do I make her like me??? _Sent Today 2:36 p.m._

Harry read through them all again and began replying. His answer to Zayn was a short warning to keep an eye on Niall and plans to steer Micaela away from him in an intervention type deal. Micaela’s answer was a very firm “Stay away.” and a request for more information on this business lunch turned awkward date. It likely had something to do with Marshall’s Love Text, and his “big news”...Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it was. To Niall he sent a stern “Don’t bother her.” and a vague explanation about his future absence this week. He sent a quick glance to Louis still in bed before going out in the hall to call his mom and explain.

Louis, after hearing the door open and close, sighed and decided now was as good a time as ever to get up. His alarm was going to go off any moment anyway. He had one final interview and then another show tonight before a couple of days off. He smiled to himself as he pulled a drink out of the fridge and thought about the quality time he could spend with Harry. Last night had been fantastic, and he was excited to take Harry out. This had been a city he insisted on stopping at ever since he’d visited the first time. There was always something new to try, and now he could share it all with his best friend.

“Don’t you have an interview to do soon?”

Louis looked away from the carpet he found himself staring at when Harry posed his question. “Yeah.”

“Should you really be having a drink so early in the morning?”

“Helps me relax,” Louis explained.

Harry just accepted it, easily recognizing something Louis didn’t want to talk about. While they were comfortable with each other, Harry still didn’t want to push him. He felt like it wasn’t his place yet. If they hadn’t been separated for four years maybe he’d be confident enough to speak up about what Jay had mentioned in her letter. It was one of the reasons he’d been sent out here in the first place.

“Wait, how do you know I have an interview today?” Louis grinned as he watched Harry's eyes widen and his cheeks turn pink. “Are you my biggest fan or something?” he teased.

“An argument could be made that I am your biggest fan, but my friends Micaela and Marshall probably have me beat. They adore you.” Harry shook his head thinking of those two and the...shrine (there was no better word for it) dedicated to Louis in their house.

“They adore me?”

“It’s a tad ridiculous really. Marshall is cynical about you while at the same time basically worshiping the ground you walk on. Micaela wants to hug you and cuddle and replace me as your best friend. Though she doesn’t know you and I are best friends, so she’s not consciously trying to replace me.”

That hurt Louis for some reason. Why wouldn't Harry tell these friends of his that he knew Louis Tomlinson, the Louis Tomlinson? Was he embarrassed about knowing him? Maybe he waited to tell new friends about their relationship so that they were close and wouldn't try to use him to get to Louis. And it’s not like they’d have any reason to suspect that Harry had any way of personally knowing Louis. He’d kept it that way on purpose. “Why doesn’t she know?” Louis found himself asking.

Harry gave him a funny look like the answer was supposed to be obvious. “We’re not exactly close anymore, Lou. This is the first time in four years we’ve actually been in the same place.”

Right. Louis kept forgetting that he’d let so much time slip between them. Guilt itched under Louis’ skin forcing him to look away from a boy he felt like he didn’t actually recognize anymore. He was taller now, with long hair he could pull back into a bun and just as much ink as Louis had scrawled across his skin. Louis knew Harry, knew there was something behind each one, some memory put proudly on display. Maybe they could spend tonight after his show talking about it. He’d missed so much apparently. He took a swig of his drink to numb the itching guilt crawling under his skin. “You still could tell them about me.”

Harry rolled his eyes. How could he forget Louis and his ego needed constant reassurance? “We could always Snapchat them if you want. It’d send them into a tail spin.”

Louis was just about to agree, but his phone rang instead. “Hello?...Yeah, I’m up. Harry’s an early riser...Sure...I’ll tell him...See you soon.” He hung up and put his beer down. “I’ve got to shower. Paul is going to bring you your bag. He’ll knock so just answer the door. We’ve got almost two hours before we head to the interview.

“We?” Harry had been fully prepared to tool around the hotel by himself while Louis did his job.

“Yeah. Did you think I’d let you be by yourself all day?”

Harry shrugged. “Kinda. You don’t have to drag me around.”

Louis huffed and wrapped his hand around Harry’s wrist. “Don’t be ridiculous, Harold. Come shower with me.”

“But who’s going to answer the door when Paul comes?”

“He’ll just leave it outside.”

Harry’s stomach twisted. Paul was going to know they were otherwise engaged. And maybe they would just shower together (highly unlikely), but Paul wouldn’t know that. It’d be so awkward to see him afterwards. “But you told him I’d answer the door.”

“Do you not want to shower with me?” Louis asked just before a nasty thought crossed his mind. “If you weren’t comfortable with last night you should have said something.”

“No!” Harry nearly shouted shaking his head violently. “No. Last night was lovely. I just--”

Before Harry could repeat his argument, a knock sounded at the door. “Now you can stop worrying and we can shower in peace. Answer the door,” Louis said.

An hour and a half later found Louis and Harry being whisked out of their room because “You’re late!”. Apparently time flies when you’re actually trying to get clean in a shower but your partner has other plans.

 

Marshall was stretched out on the couch scrolling through his phone with a national morning show on the television. He was supposed to be finishing up a thing for work, but the excitement of the morning had him distracted on Twitter. Micaela was singing in the kitchen as she finished up the dishes from last night. She was stressed about the article she needed to get done by the end of this week, but couldn’t find the words for. Marshall was humming along as he switched over to his Tumblr. So many concert pictures filled his feed. He and Micaela were going to another Louis Tomlinson concert in three weeks. A picture of them at their first concert together was proudly displayed in the center of their mantle. They’d actually gone to a concert before that, but hadn't known each other yet. It’d been one of the more mind blowing revelations as they’d gotten to know each other.

“And after the commercial break we’ll be talking with Louis Tomlinson about his upcoming album and how life on the road has been.”

“He’s coming on after these commercials!” Marshall yelled.

Micaela appeared a second later with bright eyes and pruny fingers. She lifted Marshall’s feet up and took the seat underneath them. Her fingers tapped anxiously against his ankles. They’d yet to miss one of Louis Tomlinson’s interviews, and they always watched them live. If they missed even a second, the two of them found themselves woefully confused when scrolling through their social media feeds. Louis packed a lot of punch in a short amount of time.

“Shh!” Marshall hissed as the show came back on even though neither of them had said a word. Micaela narrowed her eyes at her best friend, angry for only a moment before Louis was on television and her attention was refocused.

Their favorite pop star was perched on a stool next to two of the morning anchors. He had a pair of tight black jeans on topped with a white t-shirt and red Adidas jacket. His hair, approaching too long now, was kept out of his face by a black headband. He was smiling, and few final laughs escaping him as the anchors began their interview. “So, Louis, how’s this tour been going? You’ve been hitting some new places.”

Louis smiled, flicking a bit of lint off his jeans. “Yeah. It’s been really cool. Nice to see so many people at every show. They’ve all been great.”

“Any fun stories that you can share with us?”

The anchors looked particularly interested in Louis’ answer. Louis rubbed over his face with his hands like he was trying to decide what story would be appropriate to share. “I made a stop at the original Bob Evans in Ohio. They have this museum in the back and there were these wax figures in there. I swear they were two seconds from actually breathing. Gave me the creeps honestly.”

With another glance at their cards, the anchors posed their next question, “Last night at your show you mentioned that it was a special night. Did you ever figure out why?”

Was that a blush the best friends saw on their idol’s face? They looked at each other excitedly waiting for Louis’ answer. It’d been a long night of guessing and theorizing about what Louis could have meant or what was so special about last night.

Louis appeared lost in thought before glancing off screen. “An old friend of mine flew in. It was a complete surprise.”

“Is that who you brought with you today?”

Louis nodded. “Yeah.” Louis looked off screen again with a smile. The camera panned to where Louis was looking for a short moment before the anchors redirected the interview.

Marshall and Micaela stared at their television screen mouths agape and hands barely balancing themselves on the edge of their seats.

“Marshall,” Micaela breathed. “Rewind. Now.”

Marshall’s hand shook as he picked up the remote and rewound the interview.

“Stop!” Micaela shrieked. “Go forward…” Marshall moved the interview along slowly until Micaela told him to stop.

There, in the middle of their television, was a wide-eyed Harry Styles. He’d disappeared yesterday without telling anyone where he was going. Now they knew. They knew Harry had apparently gone to spend time with his “old friend” Louis Fucking Tomlinson.

“Oh shit,” Marshall practically squealed.

Micaela’s mouth kept opening and closing without anything coming out. She could only seem to come up with one thing, “Why didn’t he tell us?”

“Oh my God,” Marshall kept repeating. “That’s Harry.”

Micaela felt her whole body shaking. She couldn’t sit still, so she got to her feet to pace. “Harry, our Harry, knows Louis Tomlinson. I don’t know how to process this!” she declared turning to her friend with tears pricking her eyes. Marshall looked up at her, equally as lost, with pink cheeks from excitement. “What are we going to do?”

Marshall shrugged. “We gotta call him.”

Micaela leapt into action, forced to use her voice to tell her phone to call “Mr. Styles” because her hands were shaking too much. Marshall watched her, knee bouncing and breaths leaving in shaky gasps. She didn’t exactly have a plan on what she was going to say. This was bigger than big. This was enormous, gigantic, practically world-stopping. The call went to voicemail which wasn’t surprising. Harry was probably still at the interview, and he didn’t usually answer calls because his phone was on silent causing him to miss things like a phone call from his distraught friends. Once the beep sounded, she began her message, “Harry Edward Styles. You will call me back the moment you get this.”

Marshall was firing off a text to Harry since that would probably be easier to answer at the moment. the message was delivered but not read. “We just gotta wait now,” Marshall said glancing at his phone not a second later to check for some sort of reply.

“Wait?” Micaela asked bordering on hysteric. “How are we supposed to wait with information like this? How can he do this to us?”

Marshall caught Micaela’s hands as she passed him mid-pace. “He’ll call us back right after the interview. We just have to wait a few more minutes.”

Micaela nodded along and took a deep breath.

“Micaela,” Marshall began, “guess what.”

“What?” she guessed.

“Our friend knows Louis Tomlinson.”

It sent them both off into excited, jittery movements and incomprehensible sounds. They fell onto the couch together, opening Snapchat and sending a picture to Harry captioned with “Tell us everything!” They chattered excitedly after they finished watching the interview. They were settling on the questions they’d demand answers to when Harry got back to them. Who had been the boy in the shadows? (It definitely hadn’t been Harry because he had been with them having a movie night in when those pictures surfaced.) What the hell was the story behind My Spring Eyes? Just mentioning that song sent the two into an analysis of the lyrics and refinement of their current theories.

Just as their debate was getting heated, Marshall’s phone pinged with a notification form Snapchat. It was from Harry. “I got a response.” Micaela’s body was back to vibrating with excitement as she tumbled across the couch. She was practically in Marshall’s lap when he finally opened Harry’s snap. Micaela screamed and Marshall swore when they both saw the snap. Louis and Harry were pressed close in the picture, both of them grinning a bit manically at the camera. The caption was just below their chins. “So...I’ve got news…”

 


	4. Girl Almighty

Louis could wake up like this everyday; no alarm clock and a warm body curled next to him. Yesterday’s interview had gone so well, and the show later that night had been the best yet. Louis had wanted to stick Harry in the front row, but his best friend had declined. There would be so many people, nosy fans with cameras in hand and questions on their tongues he didn’t want to answer. The post show celebration consisted of massive brownie sundaes and catching up until they couldn’t keep their eyes open any longer.

Louis dropped an arm around Harry’s shoulders. He’d been such a trooper yesterday and deserved to sleep as long as he wanted. Poor thing had been shuttled from the interview to a long lunch with Louis’ creative team to sound check and finally back to the hotel. Louis would have felt bad if Harry hadn’t seemed so pleased when his friends reacted to his friendship with Louis and offered a couple of really insightful thoughts during lunch and snogged Louis senseless when they were alone in the dressing room after the show. (Those comments during lunch had given Louis a strong desire to take Harry into the bathroom and ruin him, but he refrained.) (They’d been such genius ideas though.)

Louis had every intention of letting Harry sleep while he checked his phone, but his stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly. Harry snuffled and tried to resettle; however, Louis knew Harry was up for the day now. It only took a few minutes for Harry to slowly blink his eyes open and grace Louis was a gorgeous smile. “Morning, Lou,” Harry mumbled groggily.

Louis’ heart stuttered in his chest. _Fuck_ Harry Styles. “Morning Haz. Sorry for waking you up.”

Harry pressed his nose into Louis’ chest to muffled his sleepy giggle. “Not your fault. Want to order breakfast? Is it even still breakfast time?”

“If it isn’t, I’ll get someone to find us some. I think there’s a McDonald’s down the street.”

When Louis reached for the hotel phone, Harry rolled over to his side of the bed to check his phone. It was way past breakfast and nearly past what Harry felt was appropriate for lunch. He didn’t mind what Louis was saying on the phone, too busy scrolling through messages from home (a majority from Micaela and Marshall that bordered on seriously threatening). Zayn had left a voicemail, a rather lengthy affair detailing how the guy who had bought the cookbook for his aunt had a name--Liam--and they’d gone for lunch and had a great time and Liam was also a comic book nut and had these amazing eyes and an incredible laugh. Harry could only roll his eyes at how his friend already sounded like a lovesick puppy after a single outing. His mom had left him a text that was just checking in and hoping he had a nice vacation. Niall was asking after Micaela again, and Harry had to remind him to stay away.

“So Niall wants to go with Micaela?”

Louis’ sudden question startled Harry so badly he nearly tumbled out of bed (much to Louis’ poorly masked amusement). “Yes, but it’s a bad idea.”

“Why? Niall, if I remember correctly, is a pretty nice guy.”

“He’s not one for a serious relationship though, and Micaela isn’t exactly one for a short little fling. I’m not setting my friends up for inevitable failure.”

“Maybe Niall will settle down with her,” Louis suggested.

Harry couldn't help the snort that preceded his reply. “He literally can’t stay in town for more than two or three weeks. Micaela can barely deviate from her routine without having an anxiety attack.”

Louis shrugged as if Harry’s arguments weren’t as solid as Harry thought they were. “Maybe she’s just scared of trying new things alone.”

Harry thought about that for a moment. It could be true, but regardless, Niall wasn’t a long-term relationship person and Micaela didn’t deserve the heartache.

“What else is new at home? How’s Zayn?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “He’s completely infatuated with this kid who came looking for cookbooks for his aunt. Apparently they went to lunch together and Zayn sounds like a lovesick teenage girl already.”

Louis laughed and rolled over so that he was practically on top of Harry. They boy with the curly hair giggled as Louis peppered his face in fleeting kisses. “So like you sounded after our first date?”

Harry flushed red because--Louis didn't’ know--it was true. Niall had told him that after he’d called to gush about their “date”. (He still wasn’t sure that was what they’d actually gone on when they had gone out to the movies and ice cream after they’d first kissed, but now Louis was calling it that and Harry felt a little more justified.) But Harry couldn’t tell what Louis was trying to get at right now. They hadn’t talked much about their past. Catching up had been great, but they’d pointedly ignored _them_. It wasn’t like they’d even been anything properly official. It all had seemed to just progress, blurring the line between friends and lovers. When Louis had left there’d been no discussion of what they’d do about them. Harry had had a few admirers here and there, but none of them had caught his attention quite like Louis had. Louis...well, he’d always been the more social of the two and magazines weren’t always the most reliable source of information.

A knock on the door pulled both of their attention from Louis’ remark. “That’d be breakfast.”

“You should get it,” Harry instructed.

Louis groaned but rolled out of bed regardless, pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he went. He opened the door and spoke quietly with whoever was on the other side. Harry took a moment to steal all of the pillows to prop himself up. Louis may argue with him--some weird thing about eating food in bed--but Harry wasn't’ moving. It took too much energy.

“Lou, c’mon,” Harry called just to be annoying.

Louis leaned back into the room with a raised brow, and, like he hadn’t even heard Harry, returned to his previous conversation.

Harry huffed like the petulant child he was. How could Louis have so much to say to one of the hotel employees? Guilt immediately followed that thought. They were probably really cool with lots of interesting stories. He or she was probably a fan (if they were young enough) and Louis always gave each fan as much attention as he could.

“You got bossy,” Louis commented as he finally pushed the cart to the bed. He didn’t put up an argument about food in the bed as he clambered back up. “I hope you’re hungry.”

Louis removed the first couple of plate covers to reveal some toast and scones and lots of fruit. There was even some yogurt and granola. Harry’s heart squeezed tightly in his chest. He knew for a fact Louis hated all of this. (The toast was bland regardless of the jelly smeared across it. It was all too clean and not nearly as satisfying as Harry made it seem. Where was the salt? The cheese? The grease?) “Lou…” Harry sighed, turning a much too fond smile on his best friend.

“I know it’s a lot. You don’t have to eat it all, but I didn’t know what you liked or if it’d changed or anything.”

“You’re not going to help me with it?” Harry asked as he started to pop pieces of fruit in his mouth..

Louis snorted. “Please. That’s not breakfast.” Louis lifted the final lid. “This is breakfast.” He had a plate piled with eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and buttered toast. Harry admitted it looked really good what with the cheese melting everywhere, but the smell of grease had his stomach churning uncomfortably. He popped a piece of pineapple in his mouth. Louis watched him with some odd amount of interest. harry chose a piece of melon next, followed by a strawberry and another piece of pineapple. Louis made a wounded noise causing Harry to puse with a scoop of yogurt halfway to his mouth.

“Is something wrong? You’re food is going to get cold.”

“Yeah,” Louis mumbled.

Harry ate his yogurt, drawing the spoon slowly out of his mouth. Louis made the same little breathy half-whimper. He put the plate of food down before leaning over and pressing his lips against Harry’s. The curly haired boy gasped at the suddenness, but easily melted against his best friend.

“So sweet,” Louis murmured. He stayed close, breathing in Harry’s air and rubbing his fingers through the fine hairs at the base of his head. Harry let his eyes fall close as he slipped further into the happy bubble Louis was building around them. Of course, then he had to go and burst his own bubble.

“Bacon?” Louis offered pulling away and holding up his plate.

Harry frowned, glancing between his fruit and Louis’ plate. “Just one piece,” he mumbled. (He ended up eating most of Louis’ bacon, but that wasn’t important.)

 

“I don’t have anything to wear,” Harry said crossing his arms over his chest and hunching his shoulders.

“Just wear what you wore yesterday,” Louis told him.

“I can’t do that,” Harry hissed. “Everyone saw me yesterday. They’ll know.”

“What? You don't want to take a walk of shame?” Louis teased.

“Walk of...we’re not like that.”

Louis softened a bit. “No. We’re not.” He knew it wasn’t the clothes that were really bothering Harry. It was the crowd of people camped outside the hotel. They’d found him like they always did and wouldn’t disappear  until the day after he left. He was still amazed that so many people turned out to see him. He was used to it; Harry was not. The crowd outside made him obviously nervous and self-conscious. He’d barely left home. Now he’d been thrust into a foreign city and was surrounded by screaming fans. Louis remembered the first couple of times it happened to him. He’d been scared to go out too. “Paul won’t let anything happen to you.”

Harry didn’t meet Louis’ eyes as he mumbled, “I know, it’s just…” He waved vaguely towards the window. “It’s a lot, Lou.”

Louis stepped up to Harry keeping very little space between them. He pulled on the boy’s arms until they weren’t crossed over his chest and pushed at his shoulders until they were stretched out. He took a moment to smooth his hands across Harry's broad shoulders a few times. “You can wear one of my shirts,” he suggested.

“I think I outgrew you when I turned fifteen.”

Louis huffed because that was probably true, but Harry needed to get out of this hotel room. There was so much he hadn’t one, so much he didn’t know. This was Harry’s chance to spread his wings again, get some fresh air and new memories. Louis wanted to show him around. He wanted to pack as much as he could into these few days they had together. (He also might want to show Harry off, feed the frenzy that interview had started, but Harry didn’t need to know that).

Without a word Louis turned from his best friend to his suitcase. He rooted around for something Harry might be able to fit into for the short jaunt he’d be wearing it. Louis had plans. Harry hadn’t planned on staying long so he was unprepared and Louis planned on remedying that. “Put this on,” Louis ordered holding out a red t-shirt. It hung a little loose on him so hopefully that extra room would stretch to accommodate Harry. It fit...barely. The material stretched tightly over his shoulders, pulling slightly across his chest and just barely covering his torso. Louis forced himself to swallow. It wouldn’t do to actually drool right now.

“It look okay?”

“Yeah,” Louis said with a nod trying to get some higher brain function going again. Harry looked really good in his shirt. “Let’s go.”

The pop star dragged Harry down the hall and knocked loudly on a door.They only waited a moment or two before Paul and a couple other security guys emerged. They moved as a group, being joined by other members of the team as they headed down to the garage they’d been using the entire time. The other cars in the garage were just hotel employees. The hotel had built a new garage as they’d expanded so this one was actually scheduled to be demolished in a few months. Louis had explained all this to Harry when Harry had wondered out loud about all the empty spaces.

With all of them situated in their respective cars, their little caravan emerged slowly. Louis knew they’d take a bit of a winding, out-of-their-way path and he hoped it’d give him and Harry enough time to enjoy the shop they were going to before things got crazy but it was only a small one. He loved his fans dearly; they just got a little overzealous at times. He looked over at Harry who was blissfully unaware of all that would happen today. He was just looking out the window humming a song that sounded vaguely familiar to Louis, but he couldn’t quite place it. Louis felt bad, but he didn’t want to scare Harry away from going out. He’d get him so Ben & Jerry’s or something to make up for it all later...after they spent as much time as they could out of that hotel room.

“Louis, did you explain everything for today to Harry?”

Harry’s attention turned from the window to Louis. His eyes sparked with curiosity, which was better than the nerves from earlier. “What are we doing today, Lou?”

Luckily Harry was sitting behind Paul so he couldn't see the glare Louis’ head of security threw at the pop star. Louis had the decency to look chagrined. “Well, I thought we’d go to a little shop and maybe get lunch, and then later tonight go to one of my favorite clubs.”

“Louis,” Paul warned.

“Fine.” Louis took Harry’s hand as he explained further, “It might get a little crazy today. The fans tend to mob places when I go out. I’ll be right there with you, though, and Paul won’t let anything happen. You’ll be fine.”

Harry had known that might happen. He’d seen pictures and read stories. He’d been trying not to think about that possibility, but he knew he needed to be prepared for it. Looking at Louis, he wasn’t as nervous as he thought he should be. It was just be another crazy adventure for them. Sort of like that time they’d climbed a tree and Harry got stuck. He’d ended up wrapping himself around Louis so the other boy could carry him down the ladder. Good times…

“We’re almost there. Get ready,” Paul told them.

Louis unbuckled himself before reaching across to unbuckle Harry. He tugged him over to his side of the car so they could get in the shop as fast as they could. It would leave less time for someone to spot them and get the word out. Louis prayed today wouldn’t be too bad as the car rolled to a stop. Harry’s grip squeezed Louis’ hand as the door clicked open. Louis twisted his head around to press a quick kiss to Harry’s lip and murmur, “Just another adventure, right?”, before yanking Harry out of the car and quickly crossing the sidewalk into the store.

Harry’s heart would have stopped racing once they were inside, but this store was full of clothes he’d only ever dreamed of seeing through windows. He had to consciously keep his mouth from dropping open. He reached out to brush his fingers along the sleeve of one of the gray coats that had caught his eye. A small sigh slipped past his lips. It was so soft. Harry knew he shouldn’t even be touching these clothes; they surely cost too much and the burn of unsatisfied want in his chest was too familiar to him. Even so, Harry looked at the price tag. His stomach dropped as astronomically low as the price was astronomically high. Frustration pricked at Harry’s eyes. Why was he even here? This might be fun for Louis who could afford these things, but for Harry it was torture. He’d never be able to afford this coat. And it wasn’t like he was ungrateful for what he did have. It was just… This coat was incredible.

“Do you like it?”

Louis’ sudden question caused Harry to startle. “Yeah. Do you think it’ll still be here in six months when I’ve finally got enough for it?” The sarcasm came out a little more cynical than Harry originally intended.

“Six months...nonsense. What size?”

Harry’s mouth did drop open now. “Lou, you can’t… It’s too much.”

“Harry, please. You need more clothes for your visit and you like this coat. So what size?”

“I can’t accept this. How will I pay you back?”

Louis dropped the sleeve of the coat to turn fully towards his best friend. “You’re here. That’s all I need. Besides, there’ve been some birthdays and Christmases I’ve missed.”

Harry was quiet. Louis was clearly not in a mood to take no for an answer. Harry knew he could afford to buy all this. It was just… Harry liked to provide for himself. He felt guilty about it. “You don’t have to, Lou. You don’t have to like make up for anything. I’m happy to be with you.”

Louis disagreed, but kept quiet. He turned back to the coat and just pulled one off the rack. He just pulled one off the rack. He dragged harry over to a mirror and held open the jacket so Harry could slip into it. Their eyes met in the mirror for a few heated seconds before Harry shrugged into the coat. it sat well on his shoulders, fell neatly at his wrists, and ended just before his knees. Harry’s fingers ran gently over the thick material. He’d never be cold again. He also knew he didn’t want to ever take it off. Harry closed his eyes to his reflection. Putting the coat on only made his desire for it worse.

“C’mon, Harry,” Louis whispered as he stepped closer to his friend. Harry opened his eyes to see Louis practically wrapped around him with his chin hooked over his shoulder. “Let me spoil you.”

“I--”

“Happy birthday to you...happy birthday to you...happy birthday, Mr. Styles…”

Harry groaned with pink cheeks as Louis sang to him in a raspy voice that could probably bring about world peace. Louis grinned like the cat that got the cream. “Fine,” Harry huffed. “But not too much. I’ve only got the one bag.”

(Harry really should have known better. Louis ended up adding two more suitcases to his long list of purchases.)

 

“I want to make a toast!” Louis declared, his voice seeming to boom over the loud music pulsing across the dance floor below them. Despite the low lights, Louis appeared to shine like a star. He was beaming at the group gathered around the VIP table he’d reserved for them, them being members of the crew and a few people they’d picked up along their way. (Louis literally dragged a few people up from downstairs who “looked like fun”.) There’d been a nonstop flow of drinks all night, and Louis had only gotten louder. This was at least his fifth toast of the night. It was all starting to blur together for Harry, which is why Harry had called over the waitress to get some water. One of them had to remain somewhat lucid. Louis was not going to be that one. “I want to toast to my best friend Harry.”

“Lou,” Harry sighed. If this was Louis’ fifth toast, four of them had already been about Harry.

Louis looked down at Harry who was seated next to him. “What love?”

“You can’t possibly have anything more to say about me. Sit down and let these people enjoy themselves.”

“But I haven’t talked about that lovely arse of yours.”

Harry hated Louis sometimes. “Would you like to dance?”

“But you don’t like people. And there are a lot of people down there.”

Harry knew there were a lot of people. He’d nearly hyperventilated when Louis had squeezed them inside. There were so, so many people. Louis grabbed his hand the moment Harry had thought he’d pass out. His friend had shouted encouragements to him, drew his focus from the people pressing in on them from all directions to the glass staircase they’d be climbing. There’d been plenty of air to breathe once they ascended above the crowd, and the shots waiting for them had helped calm his nerves. “I was thinking about over there,” Harry said pointing to the smaller dance floor for the VIP section. There was significantly more room and significantly fewer people on that floor than the one downstairs. He knew Louis would love to go down there, feel the place throb around him; he would kill to breathe the hot air, revel in the flashing colored lights.

Louis blinked down at him. He twisted around to look at the swarm below. Slowly his eyes slid back to Harry. “Do I get to grind?”

His voice was far too eager and his face far too earnest, but Harry found it all rather endearing. “Yeah. You get to grind.”

Louis whooped as he hopped from his seat to lead Harry to the VIP floor. His hands fell easily against Harry’s hips, moving them with the heavy base. Harry would have laughed if he could have seen Louis’ tongue poking out while he concentrated. Harry did lean into him though. He could feel Louis’ breath hitting her neck. he could hear the sporadic sing alongs Louis had with the music. He could sigh happily when Louis’ grip tightened on his hips. He could pretend he didn’t hear Louis’ next words.

  
  



	5. Night Changes Fool's Gold

Louis dawdled in the airport keeping Harry from his trek through security and to his plane as long as he could. Harry only fidgeted a bit with all the stares and no-where-near stealthy cell phone pictures being taken at the moment. “I’m actually going to keep in touch this time,” Louis promised for the fourth time. “Text me when you land and get back home.” He began a quick inventory of Harry. his curly hair was pulled back still wet from this morning’s shower. He was wearing their old high school sweatshirt. Louis was shocked Harry still fit in it. “You have your ticket right?”

Harry produced his ticket from his back pocket. “I’ll miss you too, Lou,” Harry murmured with a sweet smile.

Louis’ mouth twisted not an embarrassed smile; he’d forgotten how easily Harry could see over the walls he put up.

Harry stepped into Louis’ space and wrapped him up in a tight hug. He pressed a kiss to Louis’ temple before telling him, “Don’t forget what we talked about last night.”

Louis nodded, his head rubbing against Harry’s shoulder as he did. That talk had really been Harry talking quietly about some thoughts he had and Louis listening without snapping at his clearly nervous and uncomfortable friend. They’d changed topics as soon as they could, falling asleep soon thereafter, but Louis could remember everything Harry had said. He’d try his best to not disappoint Harry. If he couldn’t do it for himself, he’d do it for Harry.

“I gotta go,” Harry said reluctantly. “And so do you.”

Louis let out a long suffering sigh. He had a job. Harry had a life in the real world. He had a brief flash of genius: What if those two things weren’t separate? What if Harry’s life was Louis’? His thoughts must have prompted some change of face because Harry was looking at him curiously. No need to tell him what he was thinking. It was a half-assed thought that was more selfish than anything. Harry had a real life with real friends and real potential. So, to answer Harry’s unasked question inappropriately and comment on their impending separation, “How unfortunate.”

“Maybe when this tour is over you can come home for a bit,” Harry suggested shyly.

Louis wanted nothing more, but he had goals and rules, “Yeah. Maybe.”

Harry beamed, Louis felt guilty, and Paul said, “Sorry, boys, but we’ve really got to go. I’ll help you with your bags, Harry. Louis, go with the guys.”

“Lou,” Harry croaked suddenly feeling on the verge of a breakdown. It was too soon. They’d just gotten back together after four years. One week wasn’t enough time!

Louis wrapped Harry into a tight hug. “Text me as soon as you can.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry hastily agreed as they pulled apart.

They kept as much eye contact as they could as the security team pulled them apart. Paul hefted his suitcases onto the scale and pulled out his wallet to pay for Harry’s bags. “Louis insisted,” Paul explained when Harry went to protest. Harry wasn’t going to expend the energy to argue when he knew it was a losing battle.

Harry readjusted his duffle on his shoulder once Paul had settled everything with his bags. “Can you just maybe keep an eye on him?”

Paul smiled and nodded. “Sure thing. Now let’s have a hug.” Harry smiled as he hugged Paul. They’d become sort-of friends over the five days of Harry’s visit. “Get out of here,” Paul told him with a smile and gentle nudge to airport security.

 

 **Harry:** Just landed. _Sent Today 4:53 p.m._

 **Louis:** Yay!!! :) _Sent Today 5:01 p.m._

 **Harry:** You lined up a car for me? _Sent Today 5:30 p.m._

 **Louis:** Of course. You’re not taking a cab all that way. _Sent Today 5:32 p.m._

 **Harry:** Thank you :) _Sent Today 5:37 p.m._

 **Louis:** XOXO _Sent Today 5:38 p.m._

 

 **Harry:** Finally home. Call me after the show. _Sent Today 7:05 p.m._

 

Zayn got out of the car once Liam finally found a parking spot in the gravel lot outside the fairgrounds. He hadn’t been to the fair since he was little and his parents insisted on going every year. He’d avoided the cheesy music and flashing neon lights. The food was questionable at best, the children were out of control, and he always left feeling oddly sticky. Liam had been so excited about it though. Something about not having one while growing up and wanting to try fried Oreos. Zayn didn’t have the heart to say no even though Liam deserved so much better than fair food on their first official date. Zayn would happily blow the entirety of his savings on a dinner at the fancy restaurant in the next town over. He was so stupid with infatuation already and they’d only been on (now) two dates.

Liam took Zayn’s hand as they walked to the ticket booth. He used his free hand to fish his wallet out of his pocket. Staring down at the wallet, Liam realized he’d need his other hand to pay. He grunted as he let go of Zayn’s hand to practically throw the money at the bubble gum smacking teenager behind the window. She looked to be bored with life as she slowly counted out Liam’s change. Her cherry red nails clicked as she went. Liam’s fingers drummed anxiously against the counter. the music and happy shrieks of kids were just stoking his excitement. (And he really wanted to hold Zayn’s hand again.) Zayn pressed against Liam’s side, a warm smile tucked against his neck. The touch soothed Liam’s mounting frustration with the child still counting out their change. It seemed Zayn’s touch prompted her to move faster. Liam finally had his change and strip of tickets for the night.

“Let’s get you a fried Oreo,” Zayn said as he took Liam’s hand to lead Liam into the fair.

“Maybe we should get like a proper sort of dinner first,” Liam said only half serious as his focus was pulled in twenty different directions by the smells of food, cries of game runners, and the whirs of rides.

“It’s a fair, Liam. we can get dinner later,” Zayn said with a roll of his eyes.

They stopped at a stand selling the Oreos. They giggled and whispered as they waited in line. It as obvious to those around them that they were very much in their own little world. It took the vendor a couple of seconds to actually get their attention. “What can I get you two?” the vendor asked.

“He’s got fried snickers,” Liam commented pointing at the paper menu taped next to the window.

“We’ll take a fried snickers and two fried Oreos,” Zayn told the vendor. Liam went for his wallet again, but Zayn stopped him. “You got the tickets; I’ll get the food.”

“But--”

“Liam,” Zayn interrupted. He wasn’t about to let Liam pay for everything tonight.

“Fine,” Liam conceded.

Zayn grinned in triumph, passing over the ash and accepting the food from the vendor. He held up the food for Liam to take. Liam took one of the Oreos tentatively, inspecting it cautiously before taking a bite. Zayn watched him much too fondly as he chewed. Liam’s eyes went wide as he swallowed and hurried to take another bite. “Oh! This is good!” he declared once he’d eaten it all.

Zayn laughed around his Oreo, swallowed, and said, “I’m glad you like it. Now, try the snickers.”

Liam did as he was told. His nose wrinkled as he chewed, putting down the half eaten treat. “Not as good as the Oreo.”

Zayn discarded the trash and got them massive sodas as they continued through the fair. Zayn wouldn’t let Liam jump on just any ride. They only had so many tickets; decisions had to be made.

“Wait!” Liam said grabbing Zayn’s arm to stop the other boy. “I want to get you that bear!”

Zayn eyed the booth suspiciously. On the far wall were three pyramids of six bottles each. The attendant standing in the corner was tossing a beat up baseball up and then catching it in his hand. The smile on his lips was a clear taunt. “It’s rigged, Li.”

Liam just shrugged and handed over the tickets to the kid with the ball. The tickets earned him three baseballs from the teen in a baggy fair shirt. With the balls in hand, Liam began concentrating hard with his tongue poking out between his lips. Zayn bit back the laughter that wanted to bubble out of his chest. If Liam didn’t get that bear, he’d still consider himself a winner (as cheesy as it was) because of that look. Liam wound up and threw his first ball. It narrowly missed the stacked bottles. He frowned when the bottles remained standing tall. This frown only deepened when his second ball also missed, thunking against the far wall before dropping to the ground below.

Zayn gently touched Liam’s arm so that when he pressed a soft kiss to the boy’s cheek he didn’t startle too badly. “For good luck,” Zayn whispered as he pulled away, and Liam looked at him with a mildly shocked expression. (Zayn did not miss the eye roll of the teen running the booth. He pointedly ignored it.)

Liam took a deep breath before throwing his final ball. With an almost startling crash, the bottles toppled over, scattering on the grass below. Liam shouted in victory throwing both arms up in the air. Zayn stood by his side smiling wide. Liam pointed to a rather large bear for his prize. He thanked the attendant before turning all of his excited energy and attention on Zayn. “See? Not rigged,” he claimed as he thrust the bear in Zayn’s direction.

Zayn accepted the bear with a grin. “You’re right. Must not be rigged if _you_ can win this.”

Liam barely looked affronted by Zayn’s apparent lack of faith in his abilities. He leaned and pressed his lips against Zayn’s. Zayn’s free hand, not occupied by clutching the bear, curled into Liam’s shirt to pull him a little closer. This was the second date. There was no way Zayn should be feeling like this already. “We should go on that spinny ride,” Liam murmured once they’d pulled apart.

“Okay,” Zayn agreed already dizzy from the kiss.

Liam laced his fingers with Zayn’s to lead the way. Zayn kept the bear with him as they settled into one of the cars. “So these are just like the teacups right?” Liam clarified.

“Teacups?” Zayn asked as the bell sounded and the floor started rotating.

Liam looked at him with wide-eyes and mouth agape. “Have you...you’ve not been to Disney World?”

“No,” Zayn replied simply.

“Oh that’s...we’re going to fix that,” Liam said resolutely as he began to twist the wheel in the center of the car.

Zayn wasn’t sure what these “teacups” were, but they must be horrendously disorienting. Zayn was grateful that he didn’t have a greasy burger and fries sitting in his stomach. Liam had stopped spinning their car and just let the floor spin them. Zayn would catch his eye every once in awhile and Liam would give him a shaky smile in return. The boy was starting to look a little green as the ride slowed to a stop. Zayn was a little worried, but Liam brushed him off as he staggered from the ride.

Zayn and the bear followed Liam. “You’re sure you’re alright?” Zayn asked.

Liam nodded at first, lips pursed tightly together, but it dissolved into a desperate no. Liam scrambled over to the nearest trash can to heave up what he’d eaten. Zayn rubbed the boy's back in an attempt to soothe him. A concerned mom came over to give Zayn a couple of napkins so Liam could wipe his mouth once he resurfaced. “I think it was that snickers,” Liam muttered when he stood up once more.

“I think you’re right, babe,” Zayn agreed handing over the napkins.

 

 **Harry:** Good luck tonight!!! XOXO _Sent Today 7:38 p.m._

 **Louis:** Why would you say that??? _Sent Today 7:40 p.m._

 **Harry:** Shit! You’re right! Break a leg! _Sent Today 7:41 p.m._

 **Louis:** Much better. Thanks, love. Call you later. Hair and makeup are calling. _Sent Today 7:47 p.m._

 

 **Louis:** You’re not going to believe what a fan threw at me today. _Sent Today 2:39 a.m._

 **Harry:** A teddy bear in lingerie? _Sent Today 9:36 a.m._

 **Louis:** >:( Tumblr ruins everything _Sent Today 11:01 a.m._

 

Micaela pushed open the door to the bookstore as quietly as she could. She wanted to try and sneak up on Niall to scare him. He’d done it so many times to her now that it was high time she retaliate. (And she’d only recently found out it was some sort of demented game he liked to play; the competitive side of her didn’t appreciate the deficit she found herself in.) Of course the little bell above the door gave her away, but hopefully Niall would be in the back with his music on and his attention elsewhere.

She wasn’t even two steps into the store when a voice said, “Close, dear. Very close.”

Micaela shrieked and spun around. Niall was grinning at her from his perch on the front counter. “What are you doing?” Micaela demanded once she’d recovered.

“Waiting for you.”

“You said you were going to be in your office.”

Niall shrugged. “I finished up early. You’re cute when you’re trying to scare me. But I do believe that was another point for me.”

Micaela crossed her arms and pouted until Niall hopped off the counter and kissed her cheek. “Fine. That one won’t count,” he said, “but I’m still winning.”

“You can’t be winning because I didn’t even know it was a game until last week.”

“And I’ve scared you several times since then. It’s like...14-0.”

“It is not,” Micaela argued.

“Is to.”

“Is not.”

“Is to.”

“Settle this over Monopoly?” Micaela asked, extending her hand in an offer of temporary truce.

“Deal,” Niall agreed taking her hand and not letting go.

He locked up the store without letting her go and kept a firm grip on her hand as they walked down the mostly empty, dark street. He was forced to let go once they’d reached Niall’s car. He let her open her own car door, an argument he’d lost earlier in their relationship. He let her pick the music as the began the drive out of town to his house.

Niall’s house was yet another thing he’d been gifted by his parents. It wasn’t even the main house. The Horans basically had a massive estate that had been in the family for years. It as a large brick building complete with white columns along the front and glossy black shutters on every window. (It was all a bit ridiculous in Micaela’s opinion, but she’d keep that to an eye roll every now and then.) Niall didn’t live in the main house. His parents still did, but they’d turned it into a little bed and breakfast to run in their retirement. Niall hadn’t seen fit to find himself his own place what with all the traveling he did, so he’d moved into the gardener's house. They hadn’t had a gardener for years, so it needed some work, but once Niall had spent an entire summer fixing it up, it was actually quite cozy. With one bedroom and bathroom, the living room and kitchen made up the majority of the house. It was full of extraordinary yard sale finds, childhood memories, and his grandma’s recipes.

Niall first move once they were inside was to the kitchen. He pulled out a tray of easy-bake chocolate chip cookies and slid it into the oven to bake. Micaela took a seat on the couch in front of the Monopoly game they’d been playing for what seemed like ages now. “We’re not going to be able to keep this a secret much longer,” Micaela said as Niall came in with drinks. “I think Marshall is getting suspicious.”

“Really? I think we’re doing pretty good.”

Micaela snorted a bit. “You may be, but I’m an obvious human being. My excuses are getting tired, and I smile too wide when you text.”

Niall grinned and wrapped her in his arms. “You love me,” He teased.

“Oh hush,” Micaela admonished. “We’re not there yet. It’s been all of three weeks. Maybe.”

“If I win Monopoly tonight, not only am I winning the Scare Game, but you have you admit you love me.”

Micaela arched one brow. “You think you’ve got a chance?”

“I do.”

Micaela was clearly winning the game in progress, but Niall kept skipping over her properties and held on with a meager thirty five dollars. (Micaela had convinced him to completely ludicrous deals to secure her massive swath of properties.) She was pretty sure Niall had found some way to rig the dice, but she never got past the smile he’d flash every time he skipped ahead to Free Parking.

“Are you cooking something?” Micaela asked as she advanced her token to his single red property. Luckily he was too distracted to collect.

“My cookies!” he shouted instead.

Micaela twisted around to watch Niall scramble around in the kitchen. Gray smoke curled out of his tiny stove as he pulled out the sheet of cookies...or, what were supposed to be cookies. They turned out to be black crisps she’d choke down because Niall had put in some amount of effort. (She couldn’t be sure his mom hadn’t put in a little work to help him along.) “You made cookies?” she asked.

Niall turned to her with a bit of embarrassment in his cheeks. “Tried to at least. Didn’t turn out too well.” He showed her the burnt dessert. “I think I have some Oreos though.”

“Milk?” she inquired perking up at the thought of Oreos.

“Of course.”

“Two percent?”

“Naturally.”

“Double stuffed?”

“Is there any other way?” Niall asked mocking offense as he showed her the unopened package. He rejoined her in the living room settling her feet on his lap and their dessert next to their game. Micaela passed him the dice trying to tamp down her smile.

“What?” Niall asked as he shook the dice. Micaela was an open book and that look meant mischief.

“Nothing,” Micaela replied probably too quickly and too eagerly.

The dice clattered across the board showering Niall two three’s. He went to move his racecar, but then, “Hey! That’s cheating!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Micaela said through a wide grin.

“You didn’t pay me!”

Micaela only shrugged. “You were too preoccupied with your burned cookies.”

Niall’s pout turned into a rather wicked grin that had Micaela’s heart kicking into high gear. “You cheated,” the blonde reiterated.

“I did no such thing,” Micaela said though it was much more uncertain than before.

“Do you know what they say about cheaters, a ghrá?” he asked as he began to lean over her.

Micaela found herself falling back on the couch as Niall shifted to hover over her. “What do they say?” she prompted breathlessly.

“Cheaters never win.”

Niall dropped his lips to hers wordlessly trying to coax the words from the girl beneath him. Micaela’s fingers curled into Niall’s shirt as the boy deepened the kiss. Niall cupped her face in his warm palm, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

“You owe me something,” he reminded her when they’d pulled apart for a moment.

Micaela’s cheeks flared red and she dropped his gaze. Niall pulled her tightly against him, pressing his lips against her ear to whisper, “We’ll save it for later, yeah?”

 

 **Harry:** Liam and Zayn are literally the worst to be around. _Sent Yesterday 2:35 p.m._

 **Louis:** Can’t possibly be any worse than Gemma and that Drake person. _Sent Yesterday 3:20 p.m._

 **Harry:** They’re a very close second. _Sent Yesterday 3:23 p.m._

 

 **Harry:** That rain must have been awful last night. _Sent Today 8:46 a.m._

 **Louis:** That wasn’t the half of it… _Sent Today 9:00 a.m._

 

Marshall was too anxious about this. His knee was bouncing underneath the table as he sipped at his coffee. This was just going to be a casual meeting with his boss. His boss David. Tall, dark, and handsome David with legs for days and sarcasm dripping off almost every word he said. He was meeting with his boss to discuss details about their upcoming move. They were going to be opening a new satellite office in the next town over. It was a big honor. His parents were proud. His coworkers were jealous. Micaela was working on how she felt. (Change was hard for her.)

(She was also hiding something from him, but that was beside the point.)

“Sorry. Hope you weren’t waiting long.”

Marshall smiled up at David as the older man put his jacket on the back of the chair across from Marshall.

“No, no. Not long at all.”

“Good, good. I’m just going to order something. Do you want anything?”

“No. Thank you, though.”

David nodded and went over to order. He was wearing the garnet corduroy pants Marshall had first met him in at a conference held at his university. He’d been wearing them again when Marshall had ventured out for an interview that apparently was some sort of formality rather than a necessity. (“You stood out to me. We just have to jump through some hoops before it’s all official. Has to look legit and all.”) These pants just fit so well. They held Marshall’s attention better than Louis Tomlinson ever could. They’d been the topic of discussion many late nights with Micaela.

“I got us some cheese danish,” David said as he took his seat.

“Oh. You didn’t have to, but thank you,” Marshall said taking the napkin with the pastry on it.

David waved away his thanks and asked, “How’s Micaela?”

“I think she’s doing well. She’s obviously hiding something from me, but you know,” Marshall shrugged mid sentenced, “she’ll tell me eventually.”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll tell you at some point. You two are best friends after all.”

Yes they were. That had been a funny conversation the last time they’d had an out of office lunch. It’d been shortly after the announcement of the company expansion. David had invited Marshall and Micaela out to lunch to ask Marshall to join him in the new office. Micaela had gone to the bathroom and David had asked how long they’d been together. Marshall had laughed, nearly choking on his water. Micaela had smiled and shook her head when she returned. They were definitely not together. “Marshall…” Micaela had started trailing off to get Marshall’s permission to continue. He nodded her along. Micaela then turned back to David with a happy grin. “Marshall’s not interested in anything I’ve got to offer.”

Marshall had analyzed the meaning behind the raised eyebrows and satisfied smirk after the air was cleared. Micaela had locked him out of her room to make him leave her alone about it. Those pants, that smirk, the more than occasional touches haunted him. How could he work when David was constantly passing by his desk and asking about office designs for their new place and just generally existing? His life was not fair.

“What’s on your mind?” David asked nudging Marshall out of his thoughts.

“Oh, nothing.” Marshall took a sip of his drink to discourage any further questions regarding just where his mind was.

David was about to say something when the barista appeared with David’s drink. “David?”

Marshall’s eyes narrowed. Why was she over the counter? She was supposed to call his name and slide it to him while checking the clock to see how long until her shift was over. This barista was definitely not supposed to be making heart eyes at his boss. That role was taken...by him. David’s foot was nudging him though, so…

Marshall choked on the coffee he was attempting to cover his irrational jealousy with. That was David’s food rubbing against his, tucking under the hem of Marshall’s pants and dragging against his ankle.

“Are you alright?” David asked.

The barista threw Marshall a dirt look before she went back to work.

“I’m fine,” Marshall managed to wheeze.

“Are you sure?”

Marshall nodded as he took another sip.

“Did you get a chance to look at those plans I sent you?”

Yes, David. Ask Marshall questions about work when your foot is rubbing along his calf. “I did. It all looked great.”

“Would shag be too much?”

Marshall was going to die. “What?”

“Carpeting. Shag carpeting,” David clarified.

“Oh. No. It wouldn’t be too much.”

David twisted his cup in his hands. “I don’t know. My friend got some in his house and says it's a hassle. Maybe we could get massive area rugs. Plain hardwoods just seem so cold.”

“That’s what Micaela and I had to do at our place. She has cold feet and dragged me to all these random places finding rugs.” Marshall considered his cup before he added, “I’ll admit the house is cozier because of it.”

“I like the sound of that.”

David like his idea! How could Marshall even think about being productive in a future career with this guy?

“I was thinking you and I could go look at the building. I think it’ll help us figure out what we actually want.”

“Sounds good.”

They both took a few minutes to enjoy their coffee and pastry. David’s food withdrew and Marshall was rather conflicted about how he felt about that. Sure he could properly focus now, his brain was definitely less foggy, but he missed it...which was just ridiculous. They were not together. They were just apparently very familiar coworkers discussing their plans for their new place. At a coffee shop. A shop Marshall had pictured more than a few dates in. Dates with David. David his boss.

“We should make a day of it,” Marshall blurted out.

David looked a bit startled at the sudden words after a long silence. “A day of what?”

“A day of getting to know our new place. We could see the office and then just...I don’t know...see what’s around. Find a place to get lunch.”

David smiled, something mischievous dancing in his eyes. “That’s a great idea. Pick you up at...nine o’clock on Saturday morning?”

“Works for me. I’ll let you know if something changes.”

“It’s a date then,” David said raising his glass to Marshall before taking a sip.

Fuck my life was the only thing running through Marshall’s mind as he very deliberately focused on finishing his coffee without choking.

 

 **Harry:** How was Chicago? _Sent Monday 1:47 a.m._

 **Louis:** Why are you up? _Sent Monday 1:49 a.m._

 **Harry:** Gems wanted a Sibling Slumber Party, but now she’s passed out on this air mattress and I’m hopped up on caffeine and sugar. _Sent Monday 1:50 a.m._

_**Cal from Lou XOXO…** _

 

 **Harry:** Missing you. Call me when you get a chance. _Sent Thursday 4:25 p.m._

 

 **Harry:** How was the show? _Sent Friday 7:15 a.m._

 **Harry:** Lou? _Sent Friday 2:37 p.m._

 

 **Harry:** Sorry. You’re busy. Text or call or whatever when you can. _Sent Friday 11:39 p.m._

 

_**Missed Call: Haz (2)** _

 

Harry was resting his head on his arms trying to get a nap in today. Last night had not been good. Louis hadn’t gotten back to him yet, and now his phone was dead and Niall didn’t have the right phone charger and Zayn was running late. Harry suspected Liam was behind that, but he didn't mind. Zayn was a lot more… Harry could barely get him to shut up. It was like Liam had unlocked some cage and let out this whole other side of Zayn. (That was waxing a bit poetic, but it was still true.)

“H, what are you doing?”

Harry raised his head enough to peek at who was interrupting his nap. It was Micaela in a shirt so big it made it look like she wasn’t wearing pants. Harry could just see her black shorts peeking out from the hem. Now she was always wearing baggy shirts, but this wasn’t one of her normal shirts. This one was easily two sizes too big and Harry recognized that pattern. He squinted at her, taking the time to really look her over.

“Why are you staring?” Micaela asked fidgeting under Harry’s gaze.

“Is that a hickey?” Harry asked disregarding both of her questions.

Pink stained Micaela’s cheeks as her finger pressed into the bruise on her neck. Before she could come up with something to say (Harry wasn’t sure she’d have a good excuse), Niall came out. He’d been around for a lot longer this time. Usually he’d have at least left on a trip for some indeterminate amount of time. This town was too small for him. Niall had also been hanging around the counter a lot more, managing to integrate pretty seamlessly into their little group. He even came to dinners now, bringing flowers and a drink of some sort. He’d brought whiskey one night, a night that got interesting rather quickly.

Suddenly it all made sense to Harry. He jolted upright startling his two friends. Micaela was wearing one of Niall’s shirts. He’d worn it to one of the dinners two weeks ago. “Did you give her that?” Harry asked pointing an accusing finger at Micaela.

Niall looked at Micaela with a sickly sweet smile. He wasn’t exactly sure what Harry was talking about. “Give her what? The shirt? Yeah.”

“No. That.” Harry’s finger was definitely pointing at her neck now.

And that was a far too smug grin stretching across Niall’s face while Micaela’s cheeks went from pink to red. “Don’t be mad,” she said quietly.

Harry reminded himself to be softer. He wasn’t mad; he was just worried for his friends. “I’m not mad, just… How long has this been going on? When did it start?”

“A few days after you left,” Micaela said. “After he invited himself over for dinner.”

Niall reached out and took Micaela’s hand drawing her close. Micaela wrapped her arms around Niall’s middle. She tucked herself against the blonde, resting her head against his chest so she could still look at Harry. The boy with curly hair rolled his eyes. They would be one of those super touchy couples. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Does anyone else know?”

“We knew you didn’t exactly approve of this, but we didn’t tell anyone. Marshall is getting suspicious though. There’s only so many times Zayn needs my help with Liam.”

“You could always tell him your editor needs you,” Niall said.

Micaela looked up at him with a pouty mouth and wrinkled nose. “You should have suggested that sooner.”

“And here I thought you were the smart one,” Niall teased. He bend his head to peck the tip of her nose.

“You guys are so gross.” The three of them looked up at Zayn who was just coming in. He was smiling, a teasing glint of white teeth and dark eyes. “Glad we can finally talk about this,” he said as he joined them.

“You said no one else knew,” Harry whined giving the couple across from him wounded puppy eyes.

“They didn’t tell me. They’re by no means subtle. You’re just oblivious, too wrapped up in your boy to notice.” Zayn settled on his stool. “Have you heard from him yet?”

That pulled Harry out of his grumbling about secrets and into his previous worries from last night. “Zayn, did you bring your phone charger?”

“Yeah. Here.” Zayn dug out the cord from his satchel and handed it over.

Harry quickly hooked his phone up and plugged it in only to wait. He drummed his fingers against the counter while the phone took its sweet time turning back on. He barely paid attention to his friends’ chatter.

“...he’s with David. Something about ‘getting to know the place’...”

“...Liam is planning a week long vacation to Florida. Keeps going on and on about these damn teacups…”

“...Canada. Haven’t been there yet…”

All conversation stopped when Harry’s phone finally turned on. it rattled against the counter as it was inundated with notifications. Harry’s eyes widened as he watched it all unfold. No wonder it died while he slept.

“What in the world is all that?” Micaela asked peering over the counter to get a look.

“Quite popular you are,” Niall joked.

“Anything from Louis?” Zayn inquired.

Again, Harry wasn’t really listening. He was busy trying to keep his hastily eaten breakfast down. “Ni, can I use your computer?”

Niall picked up on Harry’s change of demeanor immediately. “Sure thing.”

The three of them trailed after Harry as he went into Niall’s office. He quickly logged onto his favorite entertainment news site. It was all there for him to see on the homepage. He clicked play on the headline video. The words rattled around his ears as his eyes burned. It couldn’t possibly be as bad as this. Surely this was some media blow-up.

Then Harry’s phone was ringing with an unknown number. He hesitated, glancing at the now paused video before answering.

“Hello? Harry? It’s Paul. Can you talk?”

  



	6. Spaces above the Clouds

“Just meet us out front. I’ll text you when it’s done,” Louis told Paul as he got out of the car with his new friend.

“I promised Harry I’d keep an eye on you. I’m coming in.”

Louis didn’t appreciate the emphasis Paul put on Harry’s name. He and his new friend weren’t doing anything wrong. They were just going to check out this new band. Louis hadn’t been able to stop listening to them since he found them on YouTube. He didn’t really want Paul to come and be a buzzkill, but he’d learned there was no arguing with the man. So Louis grunted, “Fine.” as he pushed out of the car with his new friend close behind.

The venue was small; some hole in the wall place Louis had never heard of before tonight. Louis presented their tickets to the bouncer and was waved in. The space was pretty full already and the band was just finishing sound check on the stage pressed against the back wall. There were a few tables along the opposite wall near the door and a bar along the wall to Louis’ left. The stage didn’t extend all the way along the wall, so people could fill in the space in front of the stage and to the right of it. The lights were already low, the atmosphere buzzing with anticipation. Louis’ new friend went straight for the bar while Louis admired the band from the seat he took at one of the back tables.

They were all pretty young. Probably closer to Harry’s age than Louis’. The lead singer--Troy if Louis remembered correctly--had a cobalt blue electric guitar slung across his back. Louis had a strong desire to run his fingers along that guitar. Niall would be drooling over it if he was here. The pop star lamented his limited instrumental capabilities as his eyes followed that guitar. He was dying to see Troy play. The drummer was a girl named Kelsi. She caught Louis’ attention as soon as Troy moved off to the side of the stage. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail while thick bangs fell over her eyes. Her solos were heart-stopping online; Louis would probably die when he heard her live. The other two--Chad and Ryan--played keyboard and guitar. They switched for a few songs, but both were excellent players. Louis would probably be fangirling, jumping up and down and squealing, if he hadn’t taken a seat. It’d been a long time since he’d liked a band like this. This band--The Black Skillet--had real potential.

“I got us a couple of beers,” Louis’ new friend announced once he returned.

“Thanks,” Louis said, accepting his bottle. “Next round’s on me.”

Louis kept his word as the band played their set. The next round was on him and the next one and the next one. His new friend got a couple more before Paul made Louis to buy one last round and stop. If the music hadn’t been so good, Louis would have been arguing that Paul wasn’t his dad and that he was Louis Fucking Tomlinson; he could do whatever the hell he wanted. He was the new Prince of Pop, Prince Tommo, Leader of the Music Industry. Everyone loved Prince Tommo. If the Prince of Pop wanted more beer then he could get more beer...or maybe one of those blue things his new friend bought.

“The car is out front. Let’s get going,” Paul said as the lights came up.

Louis hopped off his chair taking his new friend by the hand and following Paul. He wasn’t fazed by the slew of cameras that were waiting outside for him. He’d known he’d been seen. He accepted the things that were shoved at him for autographs. He kept his mouth shut as cameras flashed and questions flew at him. He calmly ushered his new friend into the car. He kindly asked the camera to get back before getting into the car and driving away.

 

“Louis Tomlinson, Prince Tommo--

( _God, what a pretentious nickname ._ )

“--went out to a local club last night to see an up and coming band.

( _You should let people know who they are, lady. The Black Skillet. Wicked new group._ )

“He came out of the club at two in the morning obviously intoxicated and with this boy hanging off his arm. This is not the same boy pictured with Louis last month while Louis was on his mid-tour break.

( _I wonder what Harry’s up to now. He’d really like The Black Skillet._ )

“Paparazzi had gathered outside and tried to get a picture of the young star and his new beau. When approached, Louis became belligerent.”

( _You would too if there were a bunch of cameras flashing and people shouting at you ._ )

Louis’ voice, slurred and angry, came over the speakers, “Get the fuck out of my face. Can’t a guy go out in peace? Don’t you assholes have families you want to spend time with?” The camera filming Louis’ exit from the club remained on the pop star’s heels. Louis tried to usher the boy into the car, but the camera had other ideas. Everyone would be talking about this new boy, so they might as well have a good picture to speculate over. Louis did not appreciate having a camera so close to him. He rounded on the camera with a livid sneer. “You piece of shit. Back up.” Louis shoved, the camera clattered to the ground, shouts and then whistles could be heard.

( _It’s clearly not my fault entirely._ )

“Louis was arrested for assault and public intoxication. He has not released a statement since his release this morning. He did spend the night in jail.

This is yet another incident the young star has been involved in. His label has been threatening to drop him if his behavior continues. In light of this most recent debacle, we’ll have to see what their next move is.”

 

Harry lay beneath his quilt with all the lights off and his phone facedown on his nightstand. He wanted nothing to do with the outside world right now.

He and Louis had left their relationship in the same limbo it had been in for the past four years. Or maybe it was only Harry who was in limbo, unable to shake the feelings he’d been denying since he was eighteen. (It’d taken him two years to even accept that there were feelings to deny.) Louis clearly felt they were permanently temporary. This boy, this dark haired boy with the tight jeans and loose tank top tucked against Louis’ side, was evidence enough that, while Harry was most likely important to Louis, he was not as important as Louis was to Harry.  Louis hung the sun and moon in Harry’s world. He brought sunshine to Harry on gray days. He always knew what to say and when to say it. He was funny and smart and kind. Harry connected with him in a way he couldn’t with anyone else.

It was all stupid honestly, and Harry was so mad at himself for letting it get so bad. Louis was a world famous pop star who was important and had fans and saw so many things Harry was too cowardly to see. Add that to the list of things Harry was mad about. Why was he so terrified to get out and see the world? Louis needed someone who could keep up with him and Harry...Harry was always a step or two behind.

“Harry?” Harry’s mother called softly as she pushed open the door. “Harry, are you awake?”

“Yeah.”

He kept his back to his mom as she shuffled in and took a seat on the bed next to him. She’d never been one of those pushy moms who needed to know what was going on in his life every second of every day. But she wasn’t distant either. She was always there with a warm cup of tea and an open ear whenever he needed her. Harry knew what was going on. It was everywhere by now. Still, she didn’t push or press. She just sat quietly next to him humming a lullaby she used to sing when he was smaller.

Harry took a deep breath before turning over to face his mom. “Do you think it’s bad that I don’t get out much?”

Harry’s mom, to give her some credit, masked the puzzled look the question prompted quickly. “No, I don’t. It’s not in your nature to travel around like Niall. Did someone make you feel like it’s a bad thing?”

“No intentionally,” Harry muttered. And that was true. Louis wasn’t making Harry feel bad about being a homebody on purpose. He never had. “But is it bad that I’m not keen on people? Like does it make me bad? I shouldn’t be so scared of people. It’s stupid.”

“Harry Edward Styles,” his mom scolded. “You are not stupid for not liking people. You’ve always been quieter and always been a bit shy. I pushed you to make a few friends in school because I remember really needing my own friends when I was in school. I was so proud when you got that job at Niall’s bookstore. I know that it’s not a busy shop or anything like that, but you do have to do some sort of customer service when people do come in. You went on that trip to visit Louis. You could have said no, but you went despite the nerves you had. I missed you while you were gone, but I was happy you were having fun. There’s nothing stupid or wrong or bad about it. If someone ever makes you feel that way, tell me and I’ll set Gemma on them.”

Harry let out a wet chuckle at that. Gemma was a force to be reckoned with when she was defending her family. Niall and his joking manner had nearly lost his head the first time he met the family.

“Do you want to talk about anything else?” his mom asked quietly.

“Louis got arrested last night. He was drunk and got into it with one of the paparazzi. That’s bad. I know it is, but the part that bothers me more is…” Harry’s throat grew tight. “He was with someone else. I don’t know if the someone was special or anything so I shouldn’t really be jealous. It’s all so silly. Louis and I have never been more than just friends. If he wanted more he’d have done something about it.”

Harry’s mom pursed her lips. “I thought...nevermind. I’m sorry, baby. Have you talked to Louis lately?”

“No. We haven’t talked in a few days actually.” Harry sighed heavily. He’d expected too much from one week. There’d been four fucking years in between then and now. Plenty of time for Louis to become unrecognizable. Plenty of time for Harry to lose his best friend to lights, fame, and fortune. Harry had been pathetic enough to believe he could still be what Louis wanted. Louis had the world at his feet. Harry’s cat barely gave him the time of day.

“I made waffles,” his mom said. “They’re ready if you want some. You’ve hardly eaten all day.”

Harry’s phone started vibrating on his nightstand. “I’ll be down in a minute. Don’t let Gemma eat all of the strawberries.”

Harry’s mom kissed his forehead before she got up. “Sure thing, baby.”

When his mom was gone, Harry reached for his now silent phone. He had a missed call and a slew of messages and notifications. It started ringing again. A picture from his week away popped up. Louis was in this antique shop they’d found that sold all sorts of things. Louis was stretched out on an emerald chaise  a massive hat perched on his head and a gray scarf wrapped around his neck. His eyes were crossed and lips spread wide in a closed-lipped smile. He looked ridiculous.

Harry ignored the call, turning his phone off before stashing it under his pillow. He pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants before going downstairs. Gemma waved at him from her phone call in the living room. His mom smiled at him when he took a seat at the table. She slid a plate of waffles to him and produced his own bowl of fruit from the fridge. “So you two don’t fight,” she explained as she slid the bowl to him.

Gemma chose that moment to come in and steal a strawberry from Harry’s bowl.

“Hey…” Harry whined.

“Suck it, bro,” Gemma said with a bit of strawberry caught in her teeth.

Harry stuck his tongue out at his sister.

“I swear you two never got older than seven and four,” their mother mumbled as she put Gemma’s food in front of her. “Harry, I want you to eat one waffle at least,” she instructed eyeing the way Harry was pushing waffle, whipped cream,and strawberry around his plate.

“Okay.”

“Are you going to work today?” Gemma asked as she basically inhaled her breakfast.

“I don’t know. I want to go back to sleep,” Harry mumbled.

“You’ve been in bed for two days.”

“I have not,” Harry snapped.

“Harry, don’t raise your voice at the table,” Harry’s mom admonished. “Gemma, don’t be mean to your brother.”

The siblings shared another teasing glare before settling into their food.

 

It was another day and a half of Harry pathetically moping over a pop star who pretended he didn’t exist when they were apart before Harry decided to do something. And his opportunity to put his plan in motion presented itself moments after he turned his phone on.

“Hello?”

“Thank God. Harry, I thought you’d died or something. I’ve been trying to call you.”

“Why?”

Silence crackled over the line while Louis tried to find an answer that didn’t seem obvious to him. “Because we haven’t talked in ages.”

“Five days. We haven’t talked in five days. We’ve gone longer. Why do you suddenly want to talk to me?”

Again, Louis was quiet, then, “We...I know you know. Paul told me he called you. I feel like I need to explain.”

“What’s there to explain, Louis? You went out to see a band, had a few drinks, left with some guy and attacked a pap.”

“Harry, it’s not that simple. I--”

“I don’t care, Louis. I don’t care anymore. You have your life and I have mine. We’ve always been different. It’s fine. Everything is fine.”

“Harry, please don’t.”

Harry ignored the fact that it sounded like his best friend was close to tears. “Goodbye, Louis.”

“Haz, wai--”

Harry hung up. He hung up on his best friend. It was shocking really. He’d always been the one to push for more time together, one more kiss, a few more minutes on the phone. Now he was the one ending things. Harry half expected Louis to call back. If he did, Harry would answer. He knew he would; his strength could only last so long. But Louis didn’t call, and that made Harry angry. If talking to him had been important enough for Louis to keep calling despite being ignored, his resolve shouldn’t flag in the wake of Harry’s words. It must not actually have been that important after all. (Beneath his angry power trip, Harry realized he’d told Louis that his didn’t care and made it clear he didn’t want to listen, but he expected Louis to call him back. To try again.)

Nodding once to himself, Harry tossed his still silent phone on the bed. He went into the bathroom, turned the shower on so it was almost as hot as it could be, and scrubbed. He scrubbed his hair until the grease from three days in bed didn’t weigh down his curls. He scrubbed his skin until it was pink and the sharpie tattoo he and Louis had been trying out was only a trick of the light.

Finally satisfied, Harry stepped out of the shower and dried off. He threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, not bothering to do more than sweep his hair into a bun before leaving the house. He whistled on his way down the street, drawing the attention of passersby, but not caring. He was a new man, a man who was happy in his town with his real friends and his job and his whole life ahead of him.

The bell above the front door of the bookstore announced his arrival. Zayn looked up from the counter where he was looking over a comic with Liam. Marshall looked away from the magazine he was reading. (Harry assumed the tall guy next to him was David. He looked like the pictures he’d seen.) Micaela and Niall popped their heads around a shelf to see who’d arrived. Harry beamed at them all. “Hey guys.”

“Good to know you’re not dead,” Zayn said before going back to whatever he and Liam were doing.

“Are you okay?” Micaela asked coming to give Harry a hug.

“I’m fine,” Harry assured her. “Everything is fine.”

“We’re having dinner tonight if you’d like to join us,” Marshall offered.

“Sounds great.”

Harry wasn’t in the mood to decipher the looks everyone else shared as he took his place behind the counter. He was fine. Everything was fine.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is what I've got done so far. I hope you've enjoyed it. I know I'm leaving it on a bit of a sour note, but it'll be fine. Everything is fine, right?
> 
> Let me know what you think below!!!
> 
> I'll hopefully have some more when I get back from my trip to Wisconsin (which should be the thirtieth). Happy Christmas everyone!!!!!


	7. Once in a Lifetime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! I'm back! Hope all of you had a wonderful Christmas and have a great New Year. 
> 
> Enjoy this next bit!

Louis stared at his phone. Harry had hung up on him. Louis had known Harry would be disappointed, but, for some reason, he hadn’t expected anger. Harry was beyond anger; he was livid. He’d used Louis’ name. He hardly ever used Louis’ name like he just did. It was always “Lou” or “Lewis” or “Louis” in an almost reverent manner. Louis hated himself that much more for totally disillusioning Harry. Harry, the boy who’d always been there for him, had always done whatever even if he knew they’d get in trouble. It’d gone the other way too. Harry barely had to finish a question before Louis was agreeing. He would have bought that entire store they’d been in if Harry had only asked. Now though, Louis wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to do. He and Harry hadn’t ever had a fight.

Paul’s disappointment in him had been hard enough to deal with. Louis had been sick to his stomach as the two of them had talked on the way back from jail.

God. Louis had been in _jail_ _._ Paul had camped out in the station while Louis had made himself as comfortable as he could on that bench. He hadn’t slept much. He was supposed to be learning a lesson, and he had. He’d had a lot of time to think, but nothing could drive it all home like Harry hanging up.

He’d...well frankly, he’d fucked up. Paul wasn’t letting him out of the hotel room--the now dry hotel room. His mom was disappointed but supportive. Harry wasn’t talking to him anymore. His skin crawled. He couldn’t lay in bed in the dark anymore. He needed to do something.

A shower.

A shower sounded good. Clean himself up a bit.

Louis pushed himself out of bed and into the bathroom. He stripped as he waited for the water to reach a nearly scalding temperature. Louis hissed when the water hit his back, but he refused to turn the temperature down. He needed to be clean; warm water wasn’t going to cut it.

Louis counted last night’s incident as the fourth major incident of his career. There’d been smaller ones along the way, but those were like little pieces of adding up alongside the big ones, the Major Incidents.

 

_Major Incident 1: The Interview_

Louis was nervous, jittery and fidgeting under the hairdresser's hands. It was, well, it wasn’t his first interview, but it was his first major interview. This was Ellen. People he knew watched Ellen. what if he really messed up? It’d be so embarrassing. He needed to calm down. He’d already tried the breathing Harry had taught him years ago. That wasn’t helping.

“You look like shit.”

Louis grinned at Mark, his very own Head of Security. Mark knew what he was doing. He’d been around for a while now. “Make up can only do so much,” Louis joked.

“Here. This always helps me relax. It’ll work better than those deep breaths you were trying earlier.”

Mark was holding a little white pill and a bottle, both of which Louis accepted warily. “You sure this’ll be okay?”

“Sure thing, pop star.”

Louis drank the whole bottle.

All of a sudden, Ellen was calling his name and he was jogging to the couches. He was hugging Ellen! This was someone he’d grown up watching with his mom. She would be so excited to see him on TV. He’d tried to get tickets, but his sisters had all gotten sick and his mother refused to leave them. He’d get her here though. That was the goal.

“So, Louis, how are you?” Ellen asked.

“I’m great. Really great.”

Ellen was smiling, that was a good sign. “Are you nervous?”

“Just a bit,” Louis admitted.

(The rest of the interview had been a bit of a blur, but he watched it back. It wasn’t blatantly obvious that his words were slurred, but they were slurred. He’d sent Ellen a fruit basket as an apology.)

(Thank God for Paul. He’d come into Louis’ life shortly thereafter.)

(Mark was still trying to get a new job.)

 

_Major Incident 2: The Gallon of Milk_

Louis counted out a few bills for the gallon of milk he wanted while he was half asleep on his feet. The cashier looked rather annoyed with him. Louis didn’t exactly blame him. There was a horde of maniacs pressed against his front windows trying to get a picture of Prince Tommo getting a gallon of milk at two-thirty in the morning. Louis could already see the little magazine blurb in another “Just Like Us” article.

**_Just like you, Louis Tomlinson needs his calcium too!_ **

“Thank you,” Louis said as he accepted his change and milk. “Have a good night.” He turned to Paul and nodded; his signal that he was ready to deal with all of this once again.

“Stay close, kiddo.”

Then the door was opening and he was being photographed and shouted at. he knew better than to answer any questions right now. His words would be snatched up and twisted around until he didn’t even recognize them. The cameras swarmed, clicking and buzzing like he was doing something of incredible importance.

Someone stepped on his toe. Louis hissed, but kept moving. Someone snagged his jacket sleeve. Louis managed to break free. Someone got between him and Paul, snapping a picture, blinding him with the flash. Louis closed his eyes and tried not to scream as his milk dropped from his hand with a loud thunk-pop. Louis watched the white liquid plop out of the carton and spread over the sidewalk.

For once, the crowd was quiet, holding their breath to see what Prince Tommo would do next.

“Excuse me,” Louis said trying to get around the guy. The camera matched him step for step.

“What were you leaving the club with?” (No one.)

“Is it true you and Demi have a thing going between you?” (Who’s Demi?)

“What do you think about your performance at the VMAs?” (Could’ve been worse.)

“Why are you out getting milk?”

Louis rounded on the person that asked that last question. “Are you serious? That’s your question? Who the fuck cares why I’m getting milk?” he demanded.

He turned back around to find Paul, but after his outburst, the flashes were even more relentless. He couldn’t see Paul. He wanted to call out to him, but these vultures would twist it into some helpless pop star calling for help when approached by a few cameras. So Louis grit his teeth and took a step forward, only to realize the idiot who started this all was still in the way.

“Please let me through,” Louis growled.

“Is that alcohol on your breath?”

Louis snapped. “Get your damn camera out of my face, shove it up your ass, and get the fuck out of my way.”

That second thing didn’t happen, but the first and third did thanks to Paul. The head of security yanked the camera away from Louis and pulled his pop star to the car. Louis clambered into the back seat mourning the loss of his milk. Paul got in the driver’s seat on the phone with someone. Louis didn’t really care all that much about who it was. He just wanted to be in bed. He regretted ever leaving the hotel. He’d made a mess of things and lost his milk in the process. Harry would probably say something funny or philosophical depending on his mood. Louis felt a comment about crying over spilled milk was appropriate.

Someone was tapping on his window. Louis tried to ignore it, but the tapping only got more insistent. With a heavy sigh, Louis rolled down his window. (Apparently his self-preservation was just as exhausted as he was and failed to remind him not to roll down his window.) Louis had been expecting more paparazzi, so he didn’t know how to react when the cashier from the store was standing outside his car. “Did I forget something?” Louis asked. He’d paid in cash and his milk had been a casualty of the media.

“You forgot your milk.” The cashier presented him with a gallon of milk. Louis let his confusion play across his face. He definitely should just be in bed. “You forgot your milk,” the cashier said again.

Louis accepted the milk from the man with a quiet, “Thank you.” The cashier just smiled and walked away.

(That man didn’t need to worry about his bills for the rest of his life. Louis would make sure he was always taken care of. It was kind of nice to be doing something so personal for someone. Sure he did big charity events, donated his money, and tried to make a difference globally, but it was nice to make a difference in someone’s life and see it happen. He and the man sent updates once or twice a month over e-mail. Louis felt oddly close to a man he’d only met in person once.)

 

_Major Incident 3: The Fall_

Today was Harry’s nineteenth birthday. That made three birthdays Louis had missed without a good enough excuse. He really should have sent his best friend more than a text message. He’d become way to paranoid for that though. One of the symptoms of keeping a secret he supposed. He knocked back the rest of his drink as he thought about Harry and thumbed through the stack of photos he kept stacked on his dressing table anywhere he went.

A knock on his door reminded him of where he was and what he had to do. Paul popped his head in with a smile that faltered when he looked at the cluttered table behind Louis but reappeared when he met the pop star’s eyes. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Louis told him was a nod.

Louis only stumbled slightly when he got up to follow Paul to backstage. He danced on his toes, pumping himself up for the show. It was going to be great. Another great crowd. Another great afterparty. This was Louis’ life. He loved performing. He loved his fans. He loved the people he worked with. He was so lucky to love what he did for a living. He had to remember to call Harry after the show. It was Harry’s birthday. Harry was nineteen. Harry probably looked so grown up. Louis was too scared to even stalk him online. Harry was still the fumbling fifteen year old waving at the end of Louis’ driveway with a ridiculous fuzzy hat on over his curls because that summer had been unseasonably cold.

What did Harry even think of him? Did he hate him? Was he proud? Did he regret pushing Louis to follow his dream? Did Harry want to kiss him still?

Louis’ musings stopped mid-show as it started to rain. Performing in the rain wasn’t terrible. It was actually fun most of the time. It never dampened the crowd’s mood, and Louis worked through it for them because they deserved a great show. They were forced to pay an exorbitant amount of money to see him,and some saw him more than once. Each and every fan was the best. He’d be nowhere without them.

“I hope you lot remembered your umbrellas,” Louis said to the fans.

They just screamed back at him not caring that they were soaked halfway through a show.

“I’m singing in the rain,” Louis began. The fans he could see smiled and giggled. “Just singing in the rain. What a glorious feeling, I’m hap--” Louis slipped on the slick stage, less sure of his footing than he normally was.

There was an unprecedented beat of total silence before anxious chatter filled the stadium. Louis blinked up at Paul’s face. His best friend on tour was looking at him with concern. Paul didn’t need to be concerned. Louis was fine, and he told him as much with a pat on the cheek for reassurance.

“You just fell off the stage mid show,” Paul told him like Louis wasn’t aware of that fact.

“Nothing’s broken.” And then Louis found himself laughing. This was all so ridiculous. It was raining, he’d fallen, and his little Pre-show Relaxation Aid may have worked a little too well.

Paul frowned. “You’re sloshed.”

“No,” Louis insisted trying to make his face contort into some form of innocence, but he failed miserably.

Paul stood him up and held him firmly. “Get up there and finish the show. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Through the rain and the chatter and the laughter still rattling in his ears, Louis heard the finality in Paul’s voice. His grin fell, dripping away in the rain. He just nodded, his sudden mirth disappearing as fast as it had appeared. “Yeah. Okay.”

 

Louis was startled out of his reverie by the loud thunk of the soap slipping from his hand and falling against the floor. He blinked down at the little ivory bar trapped between his feet. It seemed to be speaking to him, telling him things that he didn’t want to face right now, highlighting the black marks on his record, mocking how hopeless he felt. And it was all Harry’s voice. All the thoughts the boy had shared before going away again. Louis swallowed hard against the lump swelling in his throat. This stupid soap was reminding him Harry was so incredibly mad at him, so angry that he hung up. He said that he didn’t care anymore. He was such a fucking mess.

With a shaky sigh, Louis crouched down and picked up the soap. A plan started to form in his head as he started scrubbing his skin until it was pink. This fourth incident was either the last straw to break the camel’s back or at least the second to last. His label wasn’t going to be pleased (that meeting was sure to go well) and his fans were already a little nervous about the whole thing (one good thing about the media: connecting with the fans). Harry wasn’t speaking to him. (He was more than a little fixated on that disturbing fact.) He was done disappointing everyone. It was time to actually do something. By the time he was toweling dry, he knew what he had to do, who he had to talk to, and where he had to go.

 


	8. Ready to Run

“In light of recent events, I have come to realize a couple of things. First, I need to apologize. My behavior was unacceptable. It reflects poorly on me and everyone I work with and care about. I have made a plan to seriously evaluate my life and make changes. I apologize to Mr. Steele, the reporter I pushed. I hope my actions did not cause lasting damage to yourself or your camera. I apologize to my fans. This is no way to repay them for everything they’ve done for me. 

“I say this all sincerely, but I know that it’s all empty words to some of you. My mom always told me actions are louder than words, so I’m taking action. I will be stepping away from all of this--touring, recording, etc.--for an unknown amount of time. I will come back, make no mistake. I will come back. I’m taking this time to get the help I need. I’m going home.”

 

Harry stared at his phone screen for a good ten minutes. Zayn kept up with the customers in the store while Harry pretended not to freak out. Zayn felt like he should freak out. He should be mad, visibly so. He should have days where he’s upset. He shouldn’t be “fine” after locking himself away for three days. Louis had hurt him. Louis had betrayed him. Sure, it’d been a few weeks since everything had happened, but Zayn knew Harry had been in whatever he had with Louis since Zayn had known him. Zayn had been around since Louis left. Harry’s feelings had been blatantly obvious since he’d hidden the magazine he’d been reading to quietly say, “You must be Zayn. Niall told me you were coming in today. I’m Harry.”

Zayn let his Welcome-to-the-Store face drop off as the last customer left the shop. He turned to fully face Harry who was just now putting his phone down. “What’s up, H?” Zayn asked.

“Nothing.”

Zayn narrowed his eyes. “Harry.”

“What?” Harry whined, his fuse running short these last few weeks.

Before Zayn could demand information from Harry, Micaela and Marshall burst through the door. 

“Harry did you see it?” Micaela asked.

“I thought we agreed to be chill about this?” Marshall reminded.

“Oh, right. I’m just so excited.”

“About what?” Zayn asked. Perhaps these two would know what’s up with Harry if it was Louis related.

“Louis! He’s coming home!” Micaela answered.

Zayn’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. Harry just frowned and said, “I wouldn’t get too excited. He doesn’t come here. This isn’t his home.”

Micaela’s smile faded, her excitement deflating.

“Maybe this time is different,” Marshall said.

Harry snorted. “Not likely. He’s not one to change.”

“Harry,” Zayn said softly. He wasn't sure what to say or what he hoped to accomplish, but this was a side of Harry he didn’t like. It was bitter, jagged, and so unlike him. It was the only way Zayn knew Harry was far from fine.

“What?” Harry snapped. “ _ If _ Louis shows up, I’ll introduce you to him in that’s what you’re after. He’s good with his fans.”

Marshall and Micaela wrinkled their noses in an eerily similar fashion. “We don’t want you to do that,” Marshall said.

“Harry, how could you think like that?” Micaela asked. “We liked you when we didn’t know you knew Louis, and we like you just the same now.” 

Harry looked at the two of them, the hurt clouding their faces, and he felt sick to his stomach. Of course they liked him for more than his past relationship with Louis. This was the most they’d talked of Louis since Harry’s three day hiatus. He didn’t want to think about Louis or his unprecedented break or the possibility that this could be the time he actually may come home and not just stop at his place in the city. He’d lied when he said Louis couldn't change. He very clearly had; everything was different now. Louis could show up at his doorstep tomorrow for all Harry knew. (How he would react to that was still uncertain.)

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled. “I just...I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Say something before snapping next time then,” Marshall told him with an understanding smile.

Harry gave them a small nod and a sheepish smile that turned a bit mischievous when he asked, “How’s ‘Bae’vid?”

Marshall turned bright pink at the mention of his boss. “Who started calling him that?”

“Uh, that would be you,” Micaela reminded her friend, a teasing sarcasm in her voice.

Marshall shrugged and rolled his eyes with a smile curling his lips up. “Well, I’m not wrong.”

Micaela snorted, Zayn just looked to the heavens while shaking his head, and Harry’s smile grew a little bigger. “I’m feeling a little out of the loop,” Harry told him. “Haven’t heard anything since you went to check out the new place.”

“Oh, wow. That was ages ago. So much has happened since. Where should I start?”

“You could always start with that late night you two spent in his office,” Micaela replied casually. 

Marshall got even redder. “That was like...two weeks ago.”

“It’s a good story though, and these two should hear it.”

Zayn and Harry leaned across the counter with matching curious expressions. Micaela leaned against the counter, effortlessly smug in her ability to make Marshall squirm.

“We should do a dinner, and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Just the four of us. We haven’t done that in ages,” Micaela added.

“Let’s do it at mine,” Zayn said by way of agreeing. “My mom sent me a recipe I’m dying to try.”

A dinner sounded great to Harry. They’d all been so busy. It would be nice to just sit and catch up. There’d been a couple of dinners, but Niall and Liam had been there. Harry liked both of them, but it wasn’t the same. He couldn’t tell them things he could tell these three. They knew him almost as well as…

The bell at the door rang, cutting through dinner conversation and thoughts. The four of them looked to see who was coming in.

Micaela squeaked.

Marshall gasped.

Zayn scowled.

Harry muttered, “Fuck.”

 

He’d been driving for what felt like forever. He was hopped up on Red Bull and potato chips. he hadn’t stopped since he left his press conference. He was headed home, and not the place he had in the city, not that “home”. He was heading Home: a little town  barely anyone knew of, a little town he hadn’t been to in four years. He was closing in, the exit only twenty miles away.

Paul had lent him his car, one the paparazzi couldn’t recognize. Paul had been reluctant to let him head out on his own first, but Louis needed him to distract everyone with a stunt double so he could make a clean getaway. Paul was somewhere behind him though. he’d be staying with Louis’ family while Louis “sorted [his] shit out.” 

Louis finally exited the highway just as one of his own songs came on the radio. He scrambled to change the station, nearly swerving off the road in his panic. It was super weird listening to himself on the radio. He’d done it once, thought it was so cool that he was on the radio, but it didn’t last. He began to overanalyze his performance, nitpicking and realizing how he should have done it. He’d ruined it for himself now, so he usually used his iPod or CDs if there wasn’t a way to connect his music. Paul was lucky to even get radio. For some reason he head never gotten a decent car. It still had a place for a cassette tape. Louis knew Paul was a sentimental giant of a man, so there was something about this car Paul couldn’t part with, but this contraption shook when Louis pushed seventy-five. His head of security needed an upgrade desperately. He could keep this one, but he needed to drive another.

Louis took a left at the second light from the exit. It was the last light he’d see for a while. It would be short pauses at stop signs along the two lane twists and turns. 

It was some sort of out of body experience being on this road again. The last time Louis had been on this road, he was heading to his audition. He’d watched out the back of his mother’s minivan. He remembered going over the same memories he was going over now.

That corner, right there, was where he wiped out on his bike while racing Harry. He’d lost control, the front wheel twisting out from under him. He’d toppled off, skidding along the ground, nearly bumping his head on a massive tree root. He did manage to tear open his knee. Harry had turned green at the sight of the blood. Louis--poor, torn up kid that he was--had to call his mom because Harry hadn’t been sure he could talk without losing his lunch. Louis still had a scar on his knee from it.

The meadow on the left was where he first kissed Harry, like properly kissed him on the lips and all. They’d been on a picnic. Harry had made and packed all the food. It tasted so good and Harry looked so (he’d hate him for this) pretty. Louis knew he wasn’t on a date with his best friend, that would be the ultimate cliche, but he wanted to kiss him. So he did. Short, sweet, chaste; it left a pink blush on Harry’s cheeks. They hadn’t mentioned it afterwards--Louis was particularly bad at talking about anything regarding any form of relationship--but it was one of Louis’ most treasured memories.

Ten minutes away from town Louis found the copse of trees he and Harry had tried to camp out in one night. They’d wrestled Louis’ family tent from their garage and collected as many blankets as they could. They loaded it all into Gemma’s pick up. After a stern warning from Gemma about taking care of her truck, the two were off. Another great adventure. Harry and Louis against the perils of the forest. (Nevermind that the forest was at the back of Louis’ mom’s boss’ yard. It was a forest nonetheless.) Harry had instructed him how to build the tent, snapping at him after Louis snapped first. Louis forced Harry away from the fire pit when he nearly burned himself three times. Harry was truly only useful in getting the blankets and roasting marshmallows. Louis couldn’t get them right. He always ended up catching the mallows on fire. Harry always ended up with perfect, golden brown mallows that were perfectly gooey and mushy and went everywhere. But gooey marshmallows were it. He was best friends with a scaredy cat. Anything--the chirp of a cricket, the snap of a twig--had him jumping out of his skin. (They ended up sprinting from the forest to the boss’ house, crashing on the pull out couch after a near-death experience with a forest creature.)

(Ignore that Louis was the one to shake Harry awake when something was  _ definitely _ rustling around outside their tent.)

Louis smiled to himself as he rolled to a stop at one of two stop lights in town. There was the hardware store and the pharmacy, Niall’s bookstore and the bakery, the family friendly restaurant and bar and ice cream shop all in one just around the corner from the newspaper and post office. There was an office building down the street that Louis didn’t recognize, but was sure his mom would have all the gossip about. There was a new sign pointing down the road to the school and the tiny nondenominational church was tucked next to the community center. The local park still needed fixing up, but old Mr. Hill was still pruning the bushes and keeping the grass from growing too long. Mrs. Kathryn Otto was still advertising “Affordable Rafting Tours by Local Experts” and seemed to be doing pretty well for herself, as did the “old stray”, an aging dog who’d had a gray muzzle before Louis left. That dog hadn’t moved from Mrs. Kathryn Otto’s porch since her husband’s passing years ago. (“It’s Bobby’s way of letting me know I’m well looked after even though he’s not here anymore.”)

Butterflies jumped in Louis’ tummy as he pulled onto his street. He thought he may never get back here, and now that he was, he was sure he was hallucinating. That vacant house that he was always creeped out by was still there. Mrs. Rosewoods’ garden was still threatening to jump from behind her white picket fence. The Gregory house was still that nasty shade of green. (It bordered on vomit colored honestly.) Mr. Jones was rocking in his ancient wicker rocking chair on his front porch with a record player scratching out an “old classic” while his wife puttered about the kitchen with her glasses in danger of falling off the end of her nose. Gemma’s mud splattered pick up waited outside the no doubt still cluttered garage of the Styles’ residence, and just down the street a familiar blue minivan was surrounded by bright pink and lemon-lime child drawings of a fairy princess in her castle and her subject unicorns.

It looked exactly the same as when he’d left it four years ago. The bricks faded but strong, supporting an ever growing family under a graying roof. His mother’s garden was just losing its summer bloom, petals dusting the chalk doodles leading up to the front door. The blinds were open in the living room, but closed in the girls’ bedrooms. Louis could just see the Disney Princess stickers stuck to the window in Fizzy’s room. Lottie’s blinds were open to show a spectacularly clean room for a recently teenaged girl, pieces of famous artwork on the walls instead of boy band posters and magazine snapshots. 

Louis opened the car door and started his walk to his house. He was careful to keep his feet off the art on the driveway and sidewalk. It wouldn’t do to smudge the hard work, no matter how silly he may look to passers by hopping from place to place. He wiped his feet on the fraying welcome mat to keep as much dirt outside as possible before knocking on the door. He worried that not one was home for a second before he heard someone shuffling to the door and twisting the lock.

Louis smiled sheepishly at his mother when she pulled open the door. Words were clearly failing her, shocked to see her son standing at the front door. It wasn’t part of the plan, but God he had missed all of this so much. He was ready to be home.

Louis scuffed his feet on the welcome mat again and quietly greeted his mother. “Hi, mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what'd you think?


	9. Where Do Broken Hearts Go?

Louis pushed open the garage door after talking the morning and early afternoon away with his family. So much had happened since their last phone call almost a week ago. He still needed to talk to his mom about the arrest and subsequent fallout from that, but that could be done later when the little ones had gone to bed. Right now, though, he had to go find his best friend and make him listen. Harry wouldn’t be able to get rid of him now that they were in the same place.

If he was remembering correctly, his bike should be in the back corner of the garage. He groaned a little when he saw it. One of the girls had claimed it as hers apparently. It used to be a powerful red with a silver stripe running through it, but now it was a faded cotton candy pink with a white basket strapped to the handlebars. It was nearly unrecognizable except for the scuffed handles from the multiple falls he’d taken.

He untangled it from the other bikes and opened the garage door. Mounting the bike, Louis began slowly moving up his street. He couldn’t remember the last time he'd rode a bike. He wobbled, and almost fell, but then he got his bearings and pedaled faster. The wind whipped through his hair and the cool autumn air caught in his lungs. A laugh--a true, genuine laugh--bubbled out of him. He’d forgotten how much riding a bike felt like flying. The rush of air, the blur of surroundings, the freedom of choice. He loved riding his bike. He needed to do this more often. 

When he got back to the main drag of town, he slowed. There were more cars and people he needed to be careful around. Wouldn’t do to cause yet another scene.

Horan’s Family Bookstore was in the middle of a strip of buildings on the main road. It was the only building on that strip to not have a brick front. It had, as Fizzy had once told him, a forest green front with old gold letters declaring what was behind those black doors. Louis crossed the street and parked his bike right in front of the bookshop window that was piled high with donated books from around town. 

Louis stood in front of the doors scrambling to figure out what if was he was going to say  if Harry was indeed inside. A bookstore wasn’t the ideal place to have the conversation they needed to have. He should have tried to call again. Maybe Harry would have picked up. Louis had been too chicken. He couldn’t handle that rejection. But he also realized Harry could reject him now in person. Louis really didn’t want that, but it was a possibility and he was contemplating turning tail and hiding in his bedroom for the rest of his life. 

“This is ridiculous,” Louis told himself. He took a deep breath, held it until his chest burned, and then let it out when he pushed open the door. A little bell announced his arrival. He turned and was greeted with three wide pairs of eyes and one pair narrowed. Zayn and Harry were behind the counter and Louis recognized Marshall and Micaela from his week with Harry. Those two looked like they were moments from passing out. If looks could kill, Zayn’s would have ended his life the second he’d stepped foot in the store. Harry was most definitely not happy to see him; he wasn’t even looking at him. This was probably not Louis' greatest idea. He definitely should have called.

Marshall clutched Micaela’s arm while his other hand clutched the counter. He kept making incomprehensible noises that Louis took to mean he was very excited. Marshall’s friend slowly slipped from his grip as she sank to the floor claiming, “I need to sit down.” She was very clearly trying to control her breathing while tears rolled down her cheeks. Marshall’s syllables were getting closer to actual words and finally he was able to get out a choked, “Oh my God.”

Louis was flattered just like he always was when he met a fan and they were so excited to meet him, but he was more concerned with the stricken look Harry was now giving him and the dark glare from Zayn. The former escaped around the far end of the counter, disappearing in the back while the latter came around the near end and stood between the popstar and the rest of the store. “Why are you here?” Zayn asked, voice low almost menacing.

“I just wanted to talk,” Louis mumbled.

“Harry doesn’t want to talk to you. Just leave him alone.” Zayn took Louis by the arm and forced him out of the store. “It’s nice to see you, though. It’s been too long,” the dark haired boy said before disappearing inside.

Louis found himself right back where he started, staring at the door to the bookstore without a clue of what to say. This was almost worse than Harry telling him himself that he didn’t want to talk to him. 

A scowl marred his features as he got back on his bike. Here he was trying to do that mature, grown-up thing, prove to everyone that he wasn’t a silly kid with too much fame, and Harry was literally running away from him. Louis huffed as he pedaled away. He wasn’t going to give up, but Harry was going to have to meet him halfway...or maybe a quarter of the way if this was going to work. Perhaps Harry didn’t want this to work. That  _ was _ an option, but Louis wasn't going to dwell on that. He just wanted his best friend back at this point.

 

Lottie got into the passenger seat of the minivan after losing the rock paper scissors battle about who would drive. Louis whistled as he plopped into the driver’s seat. He hadn’t driven a car this big in years. He would have taken Paul’s car, but he’d been banned from driving it after he’d told Paul he needed a new one. (If you can’t appreciate her, you can’t drive her.)

(Louis was pretty sure Paul was trying to get at something bigger than just a car, but Louis wasn’t going to dwell on it.)

Louis fiddled with the keys, pretending to have trouble finding the ignition just to rattle his sister. She was definitely more nervous than she needed to be. He’d driven himself there. Obviously he could drive fine. (Nevermind the fact Paul had given him a refresher course in an empty Wal-Mart parking lot the night before and, as he was driving home, he’d nearly had a panic attack any time any other driver had done anything. It was like riding a bike.)

“Would you just put them in the ignition already?” Lottie snapped.

Louis gave her a smile before slipping the keys in and turning on the car. “I can do this Lots.”

His sister just huffed and looked through the windshield as Louis began backing out of the driveway. They barely made it past the creepy abandoned house when Lottie asked, “So, have you gotten a chance to see Harry?” The question smarted as Louis tried to come up with a not-too-lame excuse, but his ever perceptive sister beat him with, “And don’t lie.”

“Sort of,” Louis finally said. “I went to see him at the bookstore but he didn’t have time to talk.”

Lottie hummed and kept quiet the rest of the ride. Their town had a little convenience store that sold the basics--a loaf of bread when you really needed a sandwich, a gallon of milk when you craved a late bowl of Lucky Charms--but for a major shopping endeavor there was a ten minute (seven if you pushed the limit) drive down the highway. Lottie kept reminding him of where he was going. Louis knew where he was going. It’d only been four years, not a millennium.

The Piggly Wiggly stood proudly at the end of the strip mall. Less places were open than Louis remembered, but the Piggly Wiggly was still there. Louis though he’d join his classmates here in a first job he’d use to save up for a rickety old car from the used lot down the road. But he just had to be different and managed to muck it all up.

Lottie watched her brother glare at the grocery store. she put a hand on his knee to draw him away from wherever his head had taken him. “Let’s go and then you and I can talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Louis said as he got out of the car.

“I think I told you not to lie to me, but I’ll let it slide this time,” Lottie said as she linked her arm with Louis’ as they walked in.

“I’m pushing the cart,” Louis declared.

“You drove here!” Lottie whined.

“So?”

“So I get to push the cart,” his sister insisted.

A stare down ensued, an old pastime of theirs, and Louis--out of practice--caved first. Lottie grinned triumphantly as she took control of the cart. “You read off the list,” she instructed.

They’d picked a slow time of the day to go, but there were still people staring. Worry started to gnaw at Louis’ stomach. Word was going to get out. They’d get mobbed. Lottie would get hurt. Louis should have brought Paul.

“You look ill,” Lottie commented as she inspected different kinds of pasta sauce. “I don’t remember you being so jumpy before.”

“A lot’s changed,” Louis murmured absently as he kept a sharp eye out for anything suspicious. (There was a boy stocking the shelves down the aisle with a very keen eye focused on Lottie. Louis stepped a little closer to his sister with a warning look sent the boy’s way.)

Lottie, ever the perceptive one, smiled. “You’re ridiculous. That boy is harmless. He’s yet to properly approach me.”

“I’m not taking chances.”

Lottie rolled her eyes keeping her gratitude to herself. She loved her big brother. “Do you like pesto?”

“Is that that green stuff?”

Lottie held up the jar of sauce to answer her brother. Louis wrinkled his nose to answer her.

“Have you even tried it?” she asked.

“I think so; at one of those fancy dinners I went to.”

“Well, the girls and I love it, but I’ll get you some...marinara or meat sauce?”

“Will there be garlic bread?”

“Of course.”

“Then meat sauce,” Louis told her. “It goes better with garlic bread.”

“You’re such a diva,” Lottie teased as she added a jar of meat sauce to their cart.

“Comes with the territory,” Louis said nonchalantly.

Lottie just chuckled and instructed her brother to pick out some cereals when they got to the next aisle. Distracted with the merits of the cereals he considered, he didn’t look away at the sound of another cart rattling into the opposite end of the aisle. Lottie did look up to see who was joining them. The curly mop of hair and gangly limbs were instantly recognizable. She knew there was more to Louis and Harry’s current situation than her brother let on. Fizzy had followed Louis’ career in the magazines and on the internet. Lottie had lost interest after she’d read something and called him in tears afterward. She didn’t like how it all had made her think about her brother. She knew Louis Tomlinson, and nothing the media said would shake her like that again. Something major must have happened between Louis and Harry. Lottie would bet it had something to do with whatever brought Louis all the way home.

Lottie nudged her brother and nodded down the aisle. Maybe Louis could at least set up a time to talk with Harry since a grocery store probably wasn’t the place for a talk. Louis’ brow furrowed, unsure what Lottie was getting at, so Lottie nodded again.

Louis turned to look down the aisle. There was an abandoned cart with a few cans and boxes in it. There were a lot of vegetables near the front of the cart, and while that wasn’t necessarily an identifying feature, Lottie’s earlier nod told Louis Harry had been there moments before. With a sigh, Louis hung his head. Lottie squeezed his arm but he didn’t look at her. He didn’t want to see the pity he was sure was there. Her popstar big brother laid low by liquid courage and the loss of attention from one person.

“How about Lucky Charms? Think I still get more marshmallows than you?”

“You always do,” Louis muttered, smiling despite himself.

 

**Zayn:** You want some pizza?  _ Sent Today 6:34 p.m. _

**Louis:** Sure. Now? _ Sent Today 6:38 p.m. _

**Zayn:** Yeah. We already ordered.  _ Sent Today 6:40 p.m. _

**Louis:** We?  _ Sent Today 6:41 p.m. _

**Zayn:** Liam, Me, Micaela, and Marshall. I told them to be cool, but I make no promises.  _ Sent Today 6:45 p.m. _

**Louis:** I love my fans, and H told me all about them. I’ll be there in five.  _ Sent Today 6:48 p.m. _

 

Louis managed to convince Paul to let him use his car. He wasn't sure how late he’d be and if he spent the night he knew his mom wouldn’t be able to just use Paul’s car with all the kids she had to get to seventy different places. (He really didn’t like driving the minivan anyway.)

He basically remembered where Zayn lived. Zayn had been a newer friend made because Louis was absolutely terrible at math and Harry was only slightly better, but a poor teacher. Zayn was a genius at math (even though he insisted otherwise). Louis leaned on him through geometry and algebra II. Zayn had taken a couple years off from school, and Louis wasn’t sure what he was planning anymore. Zayn hadn’t been sure what he’d wanted to do for the entirety of their relationship. He was managing to keep his own rickety apartment through the bookstore and math tutoring, but Louis had a feeling Zayn wanted more than that.

(Why was he suddenly so concerned with everyone’s future? Was he avoiding thinking about his own? Was he just being a good friend? Did he spend too much time thinking about others so that he didn't’ have to think about--?)

“I need a drink,” Louis muttered as he found a place to park. He jogged up the stairs anxious to get away from the chilling air. Autumn was on its way and Louis was not prepared. He knocked on Zayn’s door before just going in. The boy never locked his door.

Micaela and Marshall were instantly silent, holding their breath as the door slowly opened. Louis appeared, and while they’d talked about this extensively, the moment couldn’t match what they’d talked about. There he was, their music icon, in their friend’s living room in sweatpants and old sweatshirt. Micaela’s grin was wide, eyes crinkling as tears slipped from their corners. Marshall’s face was flushed and his hand was clutching Micaela’s arm in a grip that surely hurt, but she wasn’t complaining. His other hand was clutched over his heart. 

Louis had seen this nearly identical reaction thousands of times. It was overwhelming in a crowd, nearly impossible when in such an intimate setting. He smiled at the two of them despite feeling immensely guilty. They deserved so much better than him. 

“Hopeless, honestly,” Zayn muttered fondly as he appeared from the kitchen. He hugged Louis before turning to the others in the living room. “Louis, this is Micaela and Marshall. Big fans. Micaela, Marshall, this is Louis.” Their wide eyes bounced between the two before they leapt off the couch. Their words fumbled over each other and their hands shook. Hugs were exchanged and then they were pulling him into the living room like they were old friends. Louis liked these two already.

Liam was another story altogether. He sat ramrod straight, his hands clenched on his knees and lips firmly pressed together. His eyes were wider than Zayn had ever seen them, his skin oddly pale. “Lou, this is Liam.”

“Like boyfriend, Liam?” Louis asked with a teasing lilt.

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Liam. I’m Zayner’s best friend.”

Liam flushed brilliantly red as he greeted him with an outstretched hand. 

“So formal,” Liam joked.

Liam got redder as Louis shook his hand. He scurried away to the kitchen once the greeting was over. Zayn, Micaela, and Marshall shared a perplexed look. Louis was grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Priceless,” he chuckled.

Zayn went into the kitchen after his boyfriend only to find the boy, nearly hyperventilating, on ground. “Li?” Zayn called crouching down. “You okay?”

Liam looked up at his boyfriend with incredibly red cheeks. “I...I didn’t put it together really. Don’t know why. I just...They're so excitable.”

“I didn’t know you were a fan.”

Liam nodded miserably. “And now I’ve messed it all up.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “C’mon. Let’s get back out there. Be cool, yeah?”

Liam groaned as he let Zayn pull him to his feet. “I’ve never acquired that quality.”

 

Harry stood next to his mom at the post office. They were having mother-son bonding time which meant they were progressing quietly through Anne’s list of errands with an occasional comment made here or there. Other than that, they were quietly enjoying each other’s presence. Harry could tell his mom wanted to broach the topic of Louis, but she wasn’t pushing it. Harry didn’t have much to say about it anyway. He didn’t care all that much. His ex-best friend had shown up at the bookstore and then been at the Piggly Wiggly a few days later. It wasn’t a big deal. Everyone but Harry seemed to have a problem with it. Sure Harry had changed a few things around so that those accidental run ins didn’t happen, but he’d been needing to shake things up for a while now.

“Anne!”

In line, Anne and Harry turned to see Jay coming in followed by Louis. A bolt of panic zinged down Harry’s spine. He dropped his eyes to his phone as Jacy and Louis stopped behind them and the mothers started talking.

“Jay, how are you?”

“I’m fine. It’s nice to have everyone home for once. How are you?”

“I’m doing well. Just running a few errands.”

Harry could feel eyes on him. They burned as they looked. He fought the urge to look away from his phone. His mounting nervous energy found an outlet through his shifting feet. He prayed the teller would call his mom up so they could get away, but she seemed to be content waiting for Anne and Jay to finish. Harry’s eyes blurred the screen of his phone he was focusing so hard. He wasn’t even doing anything; he was just aimlessly tapping on his screen, flipping through apps and pretending to play games. He could practically hear Louis’ mounting frustration. They used to slip off to the side in moments like this when they didn’t need to be by their mothers’ sides. 

Finally, the teller was ready for them. “Next!” she called.

“Oh, that’s me,” Anne told Jay. “Let’s get everyone together for dinner soon.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Jay said as Harry and Anne stepped up to the counter.

Harry’s stomach flopped with the news of a prospective dinner. He would not fare well at a dinner. He could talk to the girls easily, and Jay was great to talk to, but he’d be so uncomfortable stuck with Louis for so long. this had been bad enough. He could still feel eyes on his back. The gaze was making goosebumps pop up on his arms. He couldn’t show how uncomfortable he was. He didn’t care anymore. Louis didn’t have any more power over his feelings. He could do this. Louis didn’t matter. (“The lady doth protest too much.”)

(Zayn would have his head for that misquote.)

Louis watched Harry and Anne leave the post office. Harry had blatantly ignored him. They’d been standing less than three feet from each other! Harry had just kept his eyes on his phone. Anger sparked under Louis’ skin. Here he was, making an honest effort to work things out, and Harry pulled shit like that. What was Louis supposed to do?

“Everything okay?” Jay asked her son as they followed Anne and harry a few minutes later.

“Yeah. I don’t really want to talk about it,” Louis said.

“It have anything to do with what we talked about the other night?”

“Yeah.”

Jay just nodded, leaving her son to his thoughts as they pulled onto their street. Louis hopped out of the car and disappeared into the garage. he rummaged around, ignoring the worry he sensed from his mom as she went inside. He hadn’t let on how bad things were between him and Harry. Clearly the post office encounter highlighted it rather poignantly.

“There you are,” Louis murmured to the beat up soccer ball he hadn’t played with in ages. In the flurry of leaving and getting ready to tour, he’d forgotten it in the dark recesses of their garage. The shiny new one Paul had gotten him for Christmas years ago was very nice, but--like Paul’s beat up car--the beat up ball in Louis’ hands couldn’t ever be properly replaced. this ball, this old thing with mostly brown white spots and flaking off black, had been one of three things his entire life had revolved around. His family and Harry--always Harry--had beat it by the narrowest of margins.

Louis emerged from the garage and went around back. The brick back of the garage loomed in front of him. He frowned at it, much like he had when he’d come out here when he was younger. He dropped the ball on the brown grass. He pulled his foot back and kicked. The ball made a satisfying thump. It rolled lazily over the grass to him, and he kicked it again. He repeated that--kick, thump, roll--again and again until that’s all he knew. Kick, thump, roll. Kick, thump, roll. Kick, thump, roll. Kick, thump. Kick, thump. Kick, thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

“You okay?”

Louis’ foot kicked air, knocking into the ball on the back swing. He turned to Paul who was leaning against the wall watching him.

“How long have you been there?” Louis asked.

“Not long. You want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Louis growled, punctuating his sentence by slamming his foot against the ball and sending it flying. It bounced hard, nearly hitting Louis on the rebound.

“Louis, the whole reason you’re here is to talk. You wanted to explain and settle things.”

“And I’ve talked. I talked to Zayn and Liam, Micaela and Marshall, my mom and my sisters. I’ve  _ talked _ .”

“Uh huh.”

Louis turned on his head of security with a sneer. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Paul remained impassive in the face of Louis’ sudden temper. “What about Harry?”

“Why do you care to much about him? You barely spent more than two days total with him.”

“I care because you care.”

Louis snorted. “Well, you’re wrong. I don’t care. He doesn’t care. We’re fine.”

“Why do you drink?” Paul asked.

Louis narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck has that got to do with anything?”

“You shouldn’t swear that loudly at your mother’s house.”

“You’re not my dad. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“If you’re going to act like a child and kick a ball against a wall, then you clearly need someone to tell you what to do.”

“I could fire you,” Louis hissed.

“Who would you replace me with?” Louis queried.

Louis turned away from him, grumbling about Paul and how he just  _ always _ had to be right.

“What was that?” Paul asked.

Louis grit his teeth. He was not going to pick a fight with Paul. He was  _ not _ _._ “You're Not always right you know.”

Paul smirked. “I am, but that’s beside the point. You should talk to Harry.”

“We talked on the phone.”

“I mean in person.”

“I’ve tried!” Louis shouted. He turned back to Paul, gesturing with his hands. “I’ve  _ tried _ . But he’s not even acknowledging me at this point. We were standing as close as you and me today and he didn’t even look at me.”

Jay stepped out the side door. “Dinner’s ready guys!”

“Thanks, Ma!” Louis called. He picked up the ball and gave Paul a tired look. “We’ll finish this later.”

(Later was an intense session of Just Dance and Lottie had come so close to beating Paul. Louis had never seen someone get so close.)

 

Louis coasted to a stop next to a tree standing sentinel in front of the old hardware store across from the bookstore. Harry wasn’t paying him any attention, and today would be the end of it. They were going to end this on either good terms or bad, but they were going to end it. (Lottie’s speech had gotten a tad grandiose last night. It must have rubbed off on him a bit because he didn’t normally think in such big words.) Niall had confirmed that Harry was working today, so all Louis would have to do was walk in and ask to speak to Harry alone. Harry couldn’t, and wouldn’t, run away from work. If he ignored him like he had at the post office, Louis would make a scene to force Harry’s hand. He’d feel a little guilty for doing something like that to Harry, but they’d both get over it.

Louis abandoned his bike by the tree and crossed to the bookstore. He pushed open the door without hesitation, his arrival announced by the bell above the door. He appeared to be the only customer, and Harry was the only person behind the counter. Louis’ best friend looked up, no doubt ready with words rehearsed for customers, but turned pale when he saw who was here. Louis found himself inexplicably aching to touch Harry in some way. They’d fallen so easily into place when Harry had visited him what felt so long ago. 

The aching stopped though, replaced with sparks of anger and frustration, when Harry said, “Just ring the bell when you’re ready to check out. I’ve got to do inventory.”

Harry moved around the counter, but Louis was way ahead of him. He crowded Harry against the counter. Harry looked equal parts angry and afraid. “You’re not getting away from me that easily, Harry. I’m not going anywhere.”

Harry scowled at that as his mind flitted through ways of escaping his best friend. The immediate situation clearly called for action. Louis wasn’t going to let him go willingly, so Harry had to fight dirty. Harry’s scowl deepened, the only warning Louis got before Harry’s knee connected with Louis’ balls. The popstar shouted obscenities as his best friend scampered to the back of the store through the door marked Employees Only. Niall poked his head out of his office to see what was happening. Barely recovered, Louis gave him a terse greeting before pushing forward.

Harry clearly had been expecting the Employees Only sign to deter Louis. A smug grin crossed Louis’ face when Harry realized he’d been mistaken. “You’re not supposed to be back here,” Harry said with less conviction than he wanted.

“Niall didn’t stop me.”

Harry turned away, looking for escape once more, finding it not in physical violence but in red letters declaring the brown door an EXIT. Harry broke into a run, banging his way out. Louis found him on the chase, cursing under his breath as he left the store and entered a back alley. Harry, in his uncoordinated gangly glory, was carefully weaving his way past dumpsters and debris. Louis kept pace and managed to latch onto Harry’s wrist just as they popped out of the alley and onto the sidewalk.

“Don’t touch me,” Harry shouted, trying to yank free.

“Then stop running away,” Louis growled. “Promise you won’t go anywhere if I let go.”

“And if I don’t?” Harry challenged.

Louis grabbed on with his other hand. “Then we’ll be stuck together forever.”

“Promise,” Harry spat.

Louis immediately let go and watched Harry rub at his wrist. No doubt the sudden loss of momentum had caused a bit of pain. “How have you been?” Louis asked.

It was a genuine question, but Harry didn’t seem to think so. “Cut the bullshit, Louis. Just say what you have to say.”

Louis couldn’t help but balk at the hard words. Harry never had gotten that way with him before. “Uh, well. I'm sorry, okay?” IT was not nearly as eloquent as he’d practiced last night with Lottie, but Harry was clearly not in the mood for a speech.

“I don’t care.”

Louis bristled. Those were not three words he wanted to hear. “What do you mean you don’t care?”

Harry scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think you need me to explain.”

“I’m trying to apologize and talk with you. The least you could do is say more than you don’t care.”

Harry fixed Louis with a steely green gaze. “What’s the point? You’ve said the same shit before. I’m sorry that I haven’t kept in touch, Harry. That’s gonna change now. I’m sorry I kissed you, Harry. Won’t happen again. Promise. I’m sorry you had to see that, Harry. I’m going to be better. I’m sorry I can’t come visit, Harry. Already made plans. Maybe next time. I’m sorry I drank so much last night. I’m sorry I yelled at that reporter. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for this. They were all empty! They meant  _ nothing _ ! You went right back to doing the same thing.”

“Harry, I--”

“No, Louis.” Harry’s voice got softer, his eyes darting around as he became fully aware of the attention they were getting from passersby. “I don’t want your apology. There’s nothing to apologize for. We’re friends, or we were friends. You’ll pay your fine and go about your business being a famous popstar with famous friends and a tendency to party. Hell, you’ll probably get away scot-free.”

Louis gaped at Harry, mind still stuck on ‘We were friends’. “Harry, you’ve got to listen to me. That guy, he’s--”

“Louis, I know we were never actually a thing. I know I’ve been ridiculous for thinking we were anything more. Honestly, I’m more mad at myself than you. I’m still mad at you, but I’ll get over it.”

“Harry, please don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

_ Don’t say these things. Don’t sound so worn out. Don’t stop being my friend. Don’t be mad at yourself. Don’t get over it. Don’t get over me. _

Harry shook his head when it became evident Louis couldn't form an answer. “Just leave me alone, Lou. Just leave me alone.” Harry turned away from him. He stuffed his hands in the small pockets of his old coat. Harry’s curly head turned down, attempting to ignore the curious looks he got from those who’d caught their words. 

Louis frowned as he watched him go. Why wasn’t he wearing the coat Louis had gotten him? Surely it was warmer than that. His hands didn’t fit all the way in the pockets.

Louis knew this was the part where he was supposed to run after Harry, as cliche as it was, but he couldn't make his body work properly. He could just get one thought firmly fixed in his mind.

_ Don’t walk away. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Feelings?


	10. Stockholm Syndrome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like it's been forever since I've updated this. Thank you to the ever wonderful Jess and the always perfect Joey for doing a quick step in betaing this for me. I truly do appreciate both of your input!
> 
> Enjoy my lovelies!

Marshall closed the last window open on his computer as his day came to an end. It’d been a long week. He shuffled a few of the reports David had asked him to look over into some semblance of order before standing. He checked the time as he prepared to leave, slipping into his jacket and grabbing his briefcase. It was one of the oddest things for him, having a briefcase. It was much more grown up than he felt.

“Ready?”

Marshall smiled wide, in spite of them trying to be subtle at work. David stood in the doorway watching Marshall shrug into his overcoat. (He had an overcoat. He blamed Micaela and her insistence that overcoats were hot and David wouldn’t be able to resist him in it.) Even after four months, Marshall couldn’t help the giddy feeling he got when his boss showed up to take him out. “Just about.” Marshall was stalling to steal a few moments to catch the breath David always managed to take from him. Completely satisfied there wasn’t anything he was missing, Marshall turned back to David. “I’m ready.”

“Excellent.” David extended his hand to Marshall. Marshall took it and they walked out of the mostly empty office together. In just a few more weeks, they’d be moving to the new office in a new town together. Honestly, it was all a little much for Marshall to think about. Since college, it’d been him and Micaela against the world. He’d be leaving her behind to start his next “Grand Adventure” as his best friend was prone to calling it. She seemed more than happy to send him on his way during the day, but during the night, she’d sneak into his room and curl up next to him as she murmured how much she was going to miss him. He missed her so much already and he hadn’t even left yet. He’d have David and she’d have Niall, so it wouldn’t be all bad...just different. Different would be fine.

“So, how was your day?” David asked as they pulled up to his house.

“Probably the same as yours, honestly, but it was good.”

“Your boss didn’t pile you with too much extra work, did he?”

“No. Something tells me he’s actually taking away some of my work.”

“Oh, really?” David asked as he began looking for something for dinner.

“Yeah, but I’m not complaining. Gives me plenty of time to scroll through cat memes and Louis Tomlinson photos.”

David frowned. “You don’t look at pictures of your boyfriend?”

Marshall shrugged, sidling up to his boyfriend. “I could,” he drawled, “but they’re not exactly safe for work.”

David grinned, turning to give his boyfriend a kiss. “You could still look at them.”

“And scar an intern?”

“You don’t like them anyway.”

Marshall pressed his face into David’s chest, bright red from just the thought of the interns accidentally seeing one of the many pictures David had seen fit to take for Marshall.

“What do you want for dinner? I was leaning towards take-out. How does Chinese sound?”

“It sounds good. Get extra egg rolls.”

With an arm around Marshall’s waist keeping him close, David reached for the phone. He started humming as he waited for someone to answer. Marshall took great pride in the fact that it was a Louis Tomlinson song.

The order took no time at all--they ordered out too often really--and then they were on the couch. David sat with his feet propped up on the coffee table facing the silent TV while Marshall sat against the armrest with his feet on David’s lap. David rubbed soft circles into Marshall’s ankle. Marshall would be totally content to be here for the rest of his life. Just on the couch, quietly enjoying the company of the lo--

“Are we...has this all been really fast?” Marshall asked out of the blue.

David gave him a perplexed look, his fingers stopping their gentle touch. “What do you mean?”

Marshall shrugged. “I don’t know. Like...it’s been four months. We’re going to be living together in a few weeks and I don’t know...are we moving too fast?”

David shook his head. “No. You liked me for a decent amount of time beforehand, right?” Marshall nodded. “I liked you a lot before all this, too, so we’ve been in this relationship pretty much since that lecture back in school.”

“You liked me for that long?” Marshall wondered out loud.

David smirked. “Don’t pretend you weren’t just as in lust with me as I was with you.”

Marshall tipped his head back against the arm of the couch as he laughed. He was still chuckling as he brought his eyes back to David. And then, “I love you.”

Marshal’s eyes opened comically wide as his mouth hung wide open. He felt his blood rush to his cheeks. He’d just said that out loud. How could he have said that out loud?

David recovered from Marshall’s declaration much faster than Marshall did. He reached across the couch, curling his fingers in Marshall’s shirt and pulling him close. Marshall went easily, only emerging from the haze of his distress once David’s lips were on his. He kissed him with everything he had. He kissed him to let him know that he hadn’t meant to let that matzah ball drop like that and that David didn't have to say it back if he didn’t want to. He kissed David to beg him not to leave him. He kissed David to prove that he wasn’t just saying it; he really did mean it.

A knock on the door forced the two apart, if only because it called their need for oxygen to their attention. They stared silently at each other, something intense cracking and snapping between them. David pressed a hard kiss that tasted like desperation against Marshall’s lips before assuring him, “I’ll be right back.”

And he was. Marshall had just started to think about getting plates and forks, but David didn’t give him a chance to get up. They settled for the take-out containers. Like he always did, David attempted to use chopsticks while Marshall skipped that struggle by opting to use the provided plastic fork. Once David finally abandoned his sticks, Marshall teased, “You always try to use those and your technique is no better than that first time.”

“Practice makes perfect,” David intoned.

Marshall rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe that’s a universal statement.”

David frowned, resisting the urge to throw a half-eaten egg roll at Marshall’s head. His frown slowly thawed into a smile as he looked his fill at his favorite person in the world. He couldn’t wait to break in their new office. David knew they’d be office neighbors--he’d made sure of it-- but he might just get a door installed between them so that their offices could be adjoining. They didn’t need their employees knowing they were spending all of their time in the office together doing less than professional activities. It was extremely unfair that someone could look as fit as Marshall in a suit. Was the universe testing David for some unknown reason? He was failing miserably if it was.

Marshall put his mostly finished dish on the coffee table, leaning back with a satisfied hum. David was quick to put his dish next to Marshall’s, and for the second time that night, he pulled the boy to him by his shirt front. Marshall started to protest the grease stains that were sure to ruin a perfectly good shirt, but David’s lips cut him off. It was by no means their greatest kiss, but Marshall would never forget it because when David pulled away and their eyes met, David said softly, “I love you, too.”

 

**Liam:** Can you come over today? I need to talk to you.  _ Sent Today 10:34 a.m. _

**Zayn:** Is something wrong???  _ Sent Today 11:40 a.m. _

**Liam:** No! Nothing’s wrong. I just need to talk.  _ Sent Today 11:41 a.m. _

**Zayn:** Liam. You do realize those are the worst words in any relationship, right?  _ Sent Today 11:45 a.m. _

**Zayn:** But I’ll come over anyway.  _ Sent Today 11:46 a.m. _

**Liam:** See you soon! _Sent Today 11:48 a.m._

Those texts ran through Zayn’s head as he stared blankly up at Liam. Liam at least had the decency to look mortified. He was clearly uncomfortable, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and shuffling his feet where he stood. Zayn was happy he’d taken a seat before Liam started talking. “You want to run that one by me again?” Zayn finally heard himself say.

“My friends are coming to visit, and I’d like you to meet them, but…” Liam hoped Zayn wouldn’t make him go through it all again. He was wrong.

Zayn’s eyes narrowed and his countenance darkened. “You said it once, Liam James. You can say it again.”

Liam swallowed hard trying to keep his breakfast down. “They don’t know I’m gay, so I’d have to introduce you as my, um, friend.”

“Why did you come live with your aunt?” Zayn asked ignoring the hurt that word--that quiet “friend”--inflicted. He’d always assumed Liam had come for the summer and then he just never left. He took a job with the fire department and just stuck around. Now, though, Zayn questioned it all.

Liam didn’t take his eyes off Zayn’s feet as he spoke. “I wanted a safe place to be myself. A place where no one really knew me. My parents don’t care. They already knew before I told them apparently. My friends were never like openly hostile towards the couple of gay kids at school, but they...boys just say things.” Liam shrugged with that last bit.

Under his frustration, Zayn felt for Liam. Whatever these boys said made Liam afraid to come out to them. It must have been so hard for him, but Zayn would feel that later. He was mad right now. “Do they know you’ve been seeing someone?”

“Yeah, but they think it’s a girl.”

“Fuck you,” Zayn spat as he pushed himself angrily off the couch. He stomped into the kitchen to keep himself from taking his anger out on Liam.

“It’s not like that. I never used pronouns or anything. They did that,” Liam said.

“But you didn’t correct them. If you’re so ashamed maybe you should get a nice girlfriend and fuck around with her like you fucked around with me.” Zayn hadn’t been this close to crying in years. He’d been so sure of them. Liam had been nothing less than spectacular, but this was just so out of the blue. Zayn was someone’s dirty little secret and he hated it.

“Zayn, look. I’m sorry. Please--”

“If you say ‘Please don’t be mad’, Liam, I swear to God, I will kill you,” Zayn growled.

Liam shut his mouth, keeping his distance as he watched Zayn pull out a cigarette. He flipped the fag between his fingers as he stewed. Why did Liam think that this was a good idea? Did he have any idea how shitty it made Zayn feel? Was there any way Zayn could possibly know how it felt to fear losing a friend because of what gender he prefered? Zayn sighed heavily, slowly sliding the cigarette back into the box. “They’re going to be here any moment aren’t they?”

Liam nodded, eyes darting warily to Zayn’s face before dropping to the floor once more.

“Let’s do it, then.”

Liam finally met Zayn’s eyes properly. He clearly had not thought Zayn would go along with it. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m still pissed, and we’re not done talking about this, but I’ll do it.”

Liam beamed at him, breathing a little easier. Not that that ease lasted long because someone was banging on the door moments later and shouting, “Liam, come get the damn door!”

Zayn waved Liam to the door, managing a small, less than reassuring, smile for his less-than-likely-to-survive-this boyfriend. Liam scrambled to the door. There were a few boys on the other side of the door. Liam tugged the one in front of everyone into a tight hug, greeting him with, “Hey, Andy!”

So, that was the famous Andy Liam always talked about. Zayn remembered feeling a little jealous of this kid earlier in the relationship since Liam talked about him so often. Liam had long since figured out how to fix that though. Liam greeted the others, but Zayn didn’t bother with remembering their names right now. Maybe if they ever met under different circumstances he’d put forth more effort. Besides, his focus was more on Andy who was clearly trying to size Zayn up and Zayn was not going to break first. The two of them tilted their chins up at almost the same time. It was heading towards a fight to the death at this point.

“Andy,” Liam said, oblivious as ever to the silent battle of wills happening in the entrance of his aunt’s townhouse. Andy looked away from Zayn to look at Liam. Liam stepped next to Zayn, almost reaching for his boyfriend’s hand, but stopping himself short when he remembered friends don’t hold hands. “Andy, guys, this is…” Liam trailed off as he turned to look at Zayn. Zayn raised a questioning brow. Liam knew what to do; he certainly didn’t need Zayn’s help to make introductions. Liam took a deep breath. This was it. This was the moment he was supposed to deny Zayn was his boyfriend. The moment he was supposed to deny how happy he’d been over the last four months. The moment he lied to his best friend. It was just… “This is my boyfriend Zayn,” he finished without looking away from Zayn.

No one in the room looked more shocked than Zayn did at Liam’s confession. Sure, Liam’s friends looked surprised and confused, but Zayn looked utterly floored. Had they not just had an argument about this? Didn’t Zayn agree to just be Liam’s “friend”? Shock aside, Zayn felt so fucking validated right then. He seriously thought about pushing Liam to the ground right there, in front of Andy and the other two boys, to prove just how much of a boyfriend he was.

“I thought you were with that Zoe girl?”

Zayn finally spoke for the first time since Andy and the gang had walked in. “Zoe? Really? You couldn't come up with something better?”

Liam actually looked a bit wounded at Zayn’s comment. “What’s wrong with Zoe?”

“I don’t know. Just wouldn’t ever choose to be called Zoe.”

Now, Liam just looked annoyed. “Well, what should I have called you?”

Zayn shrugged. “Veronica, Olivia. Or I could be some pretentious shit with two names like Georgia Rose.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Liam muttered.

Andy cleared his throat to get the couple’s attention. Liam gripped Zayn’s hand tightly as he faced his best friend. Zayn dared Andy to make a snide comment to Liam. He’d literally kill him. Andy extended a hand to Zayn, smiling as he said, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Zoe. You’re all Liam talks about.”

Zayn liked this kid. “Likewise. Used to be a bit jealous when Liam went on about you.”

He took Andy’s outstretched hand in a firm grip. “You break his heart and I’ll kick your ass,” Andy warned.

“Duly noted,” Zayn said.

Andy’s obvious acceptance kept the others quiet and cordial. Zayn noticed a couple of side eyes, but he was happy they kept whatever their comments were to themselves. He didn’t want anything to ruin Liam’s elation. The boy was practically vibrating he was so happy his friends hadn’t rejected him.

“So, are we going hiking or are we going to chat like a bunch of old ladies?” one of Liam’s friends asked.

Liam seemed to suddenly remember that his friends were there for more than just his coming out. “Oh, yeah, right. You want to come, Zayn?”

Zayn shook his head. “Nah. You go catch up with your friends. I’ll just…” He kept the last part quiet and dark, Liam’s ensuing blush making it very clear what he’d be waiting for. Zayn pushed Liam on his way once he’d finished with the details. On his way out, Andy threw Zayn a casual salute that Zayn returned with a nod. He couldn’t wait for Liam to come home.

As he turned towards Liam’s room, a sudden thought occurred to him, and he just had to text Liam.

**Zayn:** Who would have played Zoe if you hadn’t come out?  _ Sent Today 1:36 p.m. _

**Liam:** I...shit. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Micaela I guess.  _ Sent Today 1:39 p.m. _

**Zayn:** That would have been priceless to see. XD  _ Sent Today 1:41 p.m. _

 

**Anne:** Gems, you’ve got to come over. Harry’s in need some some non-mom company.  _ Sent Today 12:41 p.m. _

**Gemma:** Alright. I’ll come over for dinner.  _ Sent Today 1:35 p.m. _

 

Gemma’s pickup pulled into the driveway after she was done with a long day. She worked as a veterinary assistant with the local animal shelter. She loved her work most days, but today had been one of the rougher ones. She took a deep breath and did her best to focus on the better parts of her day. Three dogs who’d had heart worm were cured and the cats didn't have any more fleas. She settled herself with another breath before knocking. 

Harry answered the door, much to Gemma's surprise. From her mother’s texts she’d thought he’d have locked himself in his room again.

“Long day?” Harry asked as Gemma stepped inside.

“Yeah.” She must look more worn out than she thought. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

Gemma raised on eyebrow to challenge her brother’s statement. Unlike their mother, she didn’t let Harry hide his feelings away. She expected him to talk about them and figure out what he was going to do with them.

Harry scowled at her. He hated that his sister was almost as good as L-- “We’ll talk after dinner,” Harry said to interrupt his own thought.

Dinner passed easily enough. Harry remained quiet as his mother and Gemma caught up. Gemma made sure he cleared his plate despite their mother’s protests. “He doesn’t have to eat if he doesn’t want to. I don’t want him upsetting his stomach.” Gemma just kept kicking him under the table until the food was gone and Harry was sure he had a nice bruise on his shin.

Gemma waited until they were safely in Harry’s room, their mother waving them away from the dishes, before she asked, “How’s Louis?”

“I’m sure he’s just fine. Never was one to stay down for long,” Harry replied bitterly.

That bitterness surprised both Gemma and Harry. “What happened?” Gemma asked softly.

“Why does everyone care so much? I don’t have to tell everyone all of my business. It’s  _ my _ business.”

Gemma fixed her brother with an unimpressed look. “You are best friends with Louis Tomlinson. He’s home for the first time in four years and you’re not trying to physically attach yourselves at the hip. That’s a big break from how you two normally are. We’re just trying to make sure you’re both okay.”

“We’re fine,” Harry muttered as his anger flagged. He knew that’s what everyone--friends, family, neighbors--thought. The fact that he and Louis weren’t together every second of every day was far from normal. But it was the way things had to be now. It wasn’t healthy for Harry to let his heart be held in the less than capable hands of Louis Tomlinson. He couldn't trust him. His words and promises meant nothing. At least he’d finally started to leave Harry alone. 

“He tried to apologize,” Harry told his sister. “He came and attacked me at work and said he was sorry. I...was less than accepting. I just want him to leave me alone.”

“Why?”

“Because I have to move on. I can’t pine over a boy who clearly doesn’t care about me,” Harry answered, his tone disturbingly passive.

Gemma’s chest tightened as her brother confessed to her. She remembered Louis and Harry. It had never been one without the other. She’d always known Harry harbored more than friendly feelings for his best friend. He’d always admitted that he held out hope that Louis would come back and they’d fall madly in love. Gemma always thought Louis returned those same feelings, but Harry had disagreed. As his sister, she thought it was just a defense, a way to temper his hope, but now it was a defeated conviction. Harry truly believed that Louis didn’t return his feelings. “Did you let him say his whole speech? He had one; Lottie was telling me about it.”

Harry just gave his sister a confused look. “Why were you talking to Lottie?” It wasn’t that he thought it was bad that Gemma had talked to Louis’ sister, it was just odd. They weren’t exactly close in age and they definitely ran in different circles. 

“She’s shadowing me at the shelter. Wants to see if it’s something she wants to do.”

“What did she say his speech was about?” Harry asked cautiously. Knowing what Louis was supposed to say meant nothing--it would have no effect whatsoever on how Harry felt--but he would admit to being a little curious.

“Guess you should have let him say it,” Gemma told him with an air of superiority Harry had only heard from older siblings.

“I’m not that curious,” Harry muttered crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from his sister.

Gemma smiled. “But you  _ are _ curious.”

 

Niall wasn’t ready for it when it happened. They’d been doing just fine, their only arguments being over minor things so far. This wasn’t minor. Micaela stood before him with her feet set wide and arms crossed over her chest. Her lips were pressed flat and her eyes were burning. For some reason, Niall felt like a little kid being scolded, a feeling not alleviated when she addressed him as, “Niall James.”

“What?” He could not for the life of him figure out what he’d done this time.

“Why are you still here?”

And now Niall was definitely lost. He literally had nowhere else to be. He didn’t need to go into the shop. He went to the doctor and the dentist last week. (It was hell.) He went to the eye doctor in January--got a new prescription and everything. “I...I don’t understand the question.”

Micaela scoffed like she didn’t believe him. “Don’t be dumb.”

“Seriously, I don’t understand,” Niall repeated. “Did I forget an appointment or something? Did we have lunch reservations somewhere? I wasn’t supposed to meet the parents today, right?” If he’d forgotten that, he was definitely in trouble.

“You don’t usually stay in town this long. You’ve always been here one day and then gone the next. You’ve stuck around for four months.”

“And you’re mad at me for sticking around?” Niall ventured to ask.

“Yes,” Micaela said like it was obvious.

Niall was still confused. “Why are you upset about that?”

“Because!” Micaela declared, her voice gaining volume. “You love traveling around. You love all the people and adventures and food. It’s part of you,” quieter now, drawing in on herself, “and it’s my fault.”

Niall was quick to gather her in his arms and assure her, “It’s not your fault.”

“It is though,” she insisted, pushing at his chest in a half-hearted attempt to put some space between them. “I’m the only thing that’s changed in your life.”

“But it’s my choice to stay or go.”

“Answer me honestly,” Micaela prompted. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

Niall looked at her, hard eyes and brave face. He should lie, he told himself to lie, but he just couldn’t. She’d see right through him like she always did. “Yes. I was thinking about going south, but I don’t want to leave you.” Niall was quick to add, “It’s not your fault though.”

Micalea pursed her lips. “Who said you’d have to leave me behind?”

“I just thought--”

Micaela cut him off. “Did you ever think about asking me if I wanted to go?”

“I just figured you’d want to stay here,” Niall admitted.

Micaela rolled her eyes. “Stupid boy,” she murmured, softening it with a kiss. “Ask me now.”

“Do you want to go on a trip with me?” Niall asked.

Micaela broke into a grin. “Yes.”

“Really?”

Micaela shook her head. “No. I was just testing you. See if you’d break or not.” She fixed him with an impassive look. “You failed.” Niall looked, for lack of any better description, crushed. Micaela immediately dropped the facade, shaking Niall a little to get his attention. “No, no. Listen, Niall, darling. Of course. I want to go on adventures with you. Of course, I want to go.”

Niall hugged her tightly. “Yeah?”

Micaela nodded, her giggles infectious as he swung her around.

“How far south were you thinking?” she inquired as her feet met the carpet once more.

Niall shrugged. “Just south really. Like South America south. Maybe Peru or Brazil.”

“I’m seeing how planned these things usually are,” Micaela teased.

“You can’t plan adventures, my dear,” Niall declared grandly.

Micaela found herself rolling her eyes again. “That’s not cheesy at all.”

Niall just grinned as he lead her out to the living room where his computer was on the coffee table. He pulled his girl into his lap while waiting for his computer to wake up. Micaela started to play with Niall’s fingers. She could probably do this for hours. She loved the feel of his fingers, there was something so reassuring about them. Niall pressed a soft kiss to her hair while they waited. Micaela leaned back a little further so she was fully cuddled against him. One of his arms dropped around her waist to keep her in place as he leaned forward to start his search. “Let’s see what we’ve got…” 

 

Louis pushed his peas around his plate, forcing them to swim through the gravy left from his mashed potatoes. He was supposed to set an example for his younger siblings, suffer through vegetables for their sake, but he wasn’t feeling up to the task today. Hadn’t really been up to the task for a few days now. His mother didn’t push him like she normally would. Louis both appreciated it and detested it at the same time. He didn’t need to be coddled; he was a man. He could handle the rejection of a boy. But this wasn’t just any boy. This was Harry Styles, his best friend since they were ten. This was the boy Louis had been in love with for almost as long.

Louis’ eyes widened and he scraped his fork against the plate making everyone wince. In a drunken state, Louis was more than capable of professing his love for his best friend. But the next morning it was just one more train of thought pounding behind his eyes that needed aspirin and a drink to quiet. Sober Louis always insisted that yes, he loved Harry, but that was a friend love not a spend-the-rest-of-my-life-with-you love. Did he really need to wait for his entire life to fall apart to figure this out? Lottie had almost torn it out of him when they’d been planning what he would say when he finally got to talk to Harry, but he’d refused even then. 

Sober Louis was too paranoid for that. His life was no place for someone like Harry what with the constant attention and scrutiny. Harry would lose his mind. Louis had worked so hard to keep Harry untouched by all the chaos. Drunk Louis didn’t have those same cares. Drunk Louis wanted to be pictured on the red carpet with Harry and then celebrate his accomplishments together when they got back to the hotel. He wanted Harry to be at almost every show so he could show him off to all his fans. He wanted to sneak away with his best friend and go on marvelous, unsupervised adventures only to be forced to endure a speech by a fondly frustrated Paul.

“Louis, are you alright?” his mom asked.

Louis looked up at her with wide blue eyes. “Yeah. No. I’m great. Spectacular, even.”

Jay gave her son a confused look, but returned to her dinner.

Drunk Louis wanted Harry and Sober Louis was finally on board with that.

“Come help me with the dishes, Lou,” Paul said as he got to his feet. Jay had long since given up on protesting Paul doing the dishes. He was her guest, but he insisted on “repaying her kindness” and that she “should prop her feet up and have a glass of wine” at the end of the day.

Louis followed Paul without saying a word. He was still a little lost in his personal revelations.

“You want to tell me why you look like you saw a ghost, kiddo?”

“I...I love him,” Louis murmured.

Paul raised an eyebrow as he passed the pop star a towel to dry. “Care to expand on that?”

“Harry. I love Harry. Like I’m in love with him.”

“But he won’t acknowledge you anymore,” Paul reminded.

Louis scowled. “You’re a terrible person.”

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Paul challenged.

“I tried firing you, but you seem hell bent on sticking around, so just put up with you, I guess.”

“Love you, too, Lou,” Paul chuckled, “but I meant what are you going to do about Harry?”

Louis thought as he wiped off the plate in his hands. What exactly was he going to do? Harry had made it very clear that he wanted to be left alone. This was going to call for something big, something romantic...something worthy of the one and only Harry Styles. Louis put the plate down and turned to leave the kitchen. “I’ve got a call to make.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Feelings? 
> 
> Anyone know who Louis is calling?


	11. Illusion of 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got this one up! So excited for y'all to finally get this!

“Marshall!” Micaela shrieked as she hurried down the stairs. “Marshall!” 

Her best friend poked his head out from the kitchen, clearly curious and slightly worried as his friend shouted his name. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing. Nothing could possibly be wrong now. Have you got plans tonight?”

“No, why?” Marshall asked, furrowed brow and cautious tone evidence of his unsure curiosity.

“Louis need our help!” Micaela declared gleefully. “ _ Louis needs us _ !” She reiterated grabbing Marshall and shaking him.

Marshall’s eyes went wide mirroring her bright grin as she gripped his arm before returning to her phone call. “We’d love to help you. What are you thinking?... That’s easy enough… I make no promises on being able to properly contain myself. No promises for Marshall either...Great. You can come over earlier. We’ll leave the door open… See you soon!”

Before she hung up, Marshall batted at her arm demanding, “What did he say?”

Excitement thrummed through Micaela making her practically vibrate in her spot. Her hand shook slightly as she grabbed Marshall’s hand to stop him from hitting her. “I won’t tell you if you give me a bruise.” 

Marshall took on an offended demeanor. “Uh, that’s not fair. We both know you bruise way too easily.”

Marshall’s quip couldn’t dull Micaela’s giddiness as she got to explaining. “Louis is going to tell Harry that he's in love with him!”

And just like that, Marshall’s offense turned to delight. “Oh my God! Really?”

“Yeah!”

They grinned at each other, both shaking now. The Louis Tomlinson was in love with one of their best friends and he was going to tell him. The Louis Tomlinson had called  _ them _ about it. 

“What are we supposed to do?” Marshall asked.

“We’re going to lure Harry here under the pretense of a dinner, then we’re going to leave him here with Louis and Louis is going to tell him.”

“Okay, but what if Harry leaves? He’s not exactly thrilled Louis is here.”

Micaela narrowed her eyes. “Don't be ridiculous. They’re meant to be together...and we’re to barricade them in here somehow...That may be the one flaw in this plan…” Micaela considered how open their first floor was. It was the first time she actually hated all the open space.

“We could do a game night dinner in the basement. That door opens out so we can block it,” Marshall suggested.

Micaela’s excitement returned as she dropped a quick kiss on Marshall’s cheek. “Brilliant! We’ve got to clean up and then get Harry. Louis’ calling Zayn to get him in on the plan. You call David. I’ll call Niall. We can all go on a triple date while Louis and Harry duke it out. We should probably go to the store. Snacks, drinks, condoms--”

Marshall interrupted her mental list with a shocked, “Condoms?”

“Yeah,” Micaela confirmed with wide, deceptively innocent eyes. “The love of Harry’s life is about to tell him he loves him. You trying to tell me they're not gonna wanna fuck after that?”

“Oh my God,” Marshall murmured with a shake of his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Micaela grinned. “I like to be prepared.”

 

Harry cursed his luck when the bell above the door rang to signal the arrival of a customer. There were five minutes left in his shift. Who came to a bookstore this late anyway?

His mood lifted a bit though when he recognized Marshall’s laugh and Micaela’s quick chatter. Whatever story she’d been telling was interrupted when she greeted him, “Harry!”

“Hey guys,” Harry returned giving them each a quick hug. “What are you two doing here?”

“We’re having game night at ours and came to get you,” Micaela replied.

Harry, while happy to be invited, was suspicious of their motives. Micaela had on her I’m-way-too-excited-to-contain-myself grin while Marshall’s eyes betrayed the mischief simmering below the surface. Whatever these two had up their sleeves was clearly supposed to be a secret, but Micaela and Marshall had never been good at secrets. 

“What’s going on?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” Marshall replied. Harry could hear the lie. “We decided it’s been too long since we got together. Zayn’s already at our place.”

Harry frowned. The secret was clearly being kept from him. They would have told him if he wasn’t the subject of the secret. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. There was only one way to find out what was actually going on. Well, Harry could think of a couple of more, but he didn’t have the energy for those. “Alright. Let me just lock up.” Harry could hear the two best friends high five behind him. They were probably proud of themselves for keeping the fact that they had a secret to themselves. Harry wasn’t going to tell them how awful they actually were at it. 

Luckily the walk from the bookstore to Micaela and Marshall’s place wasn’t for enough for Harry to really speculate what was going on. But he was too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice there were more cars than there should be out front. Once inside, though, Harry’s heart dropped a bit. Zayn was there, but so were Niall, Liam, and David. He’d been hoping that it would just be the four of them like old times. Times before he had to force a smile around clearly successful couples while his sort-of-relationship burned up in anger and half-hearted apologies.

“You okay?” Micaela asked quietly when she noticed Harry hanging back.

Apparently his disappointment had been more obvious than he'd meant it to be. “Yes. I’m fine. Just thought it’d be the four of us, you know, like it used to be.”

Micaela looked into the living room where everyone else was before turning back to Harry. “Oh, I’m sorry. We forgot to mention everyone was coming over. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” she told him.

The desire to leave was definitely there, but he’d spent too much time at home. His mother was starting to worry and Gemma was becoming a regular fixture at home again. “No, I’ll stay.” Harry took a deep breath, preparing for the night of seventh wheeling ahead of him. “Need me to do anything?”

Micaela tapped her chin as if she was considering what Harry could do. “Could you take the chips downstairs? They’re just on the counter. We’ll be right behind you.” 

Harry nodded, happy for a reprieve even though the night had barely begun. Micaela watched him go, and once he’d disappeared through the basement door, she motioned for the others to move. They took their places around the couch and began to move it towards the basement door.

As he took walked down the stairs, Gemma’s little comments about Louis were still heavy on Harry’s mind. It was harder to shake them than he thought it should be. It was just Louis. He wasn’t anything special. He didn’t matter. He definitely looked out of place in the middle of Micaela and Marshall’s basement.

The bowl of chips fell from Harry’s hands, the snack scattering around his feet. Behind him, he heard the door click close. He was too slow to keep the others from locking it and moving something heavy in front of it. He darted up the stairs when the initial shock wore off. He pounded on the door, pushing against it with his entire body when his knocks were ignored. “Fuck,” he spat as he turned back down the stairs.

Louis hadn’t moved from his spot nor had he shown any reaction to Harry’s belated attempts to get away from him. Harry found this particularly infuriating for some reason. He wanted to know that Louis was as hurt by him as he was by him as he was by Louis. He could have just walked around the pop star, avoided him completely, but he was feeling reckless--and a little immature--so when he passed Louis on his way to the bathroom, he pushed him. He felt absurdly smug when Louis stumbled to the side appearing panicked as he tried to keep from toppling over. Harry locked himself in the bathroom. They couldn’t keep them here forever. They’d get bored of this game and find him and Louis exactly as they are now: not best friends and not talking to each other.

Louis rubbed at the place on his arm where Harry had pushed him. He always forgot how strong his friend was. He moved toward the bathroom door, turning his back to it and sliding down to the floor. he sighed heavily starting to pick at a thread on his shirt. He’d hoped they’d be able to have this conversation face to face, but this was just going to have to do.

“I wanted to tell you all of this when I cornered you at work, but…” Louis chuckled as he trailed off. “I just saw you and you looked amazing and everything I wanted to say kind of just left me. Cliche huh?” Louis waited for Harry to agree, laugh at the cheesiness of it all, but he got nothing. He looked to the ceiling to keep his composure, and then kept talking, “You were angry though. I’ve seen you angry before. Angry at Gemma for being your big sister. Angry at those kids at school for throwing wood chips at squirrels. But it’s never-- _you’ve_ never been angry at me. I didn’t really know what to do with it. I guess that one’s obvious since I’m talking to a bathroom door.” Again, he got nothing.

“Anyway, I’m sorry. I know that I’ve said that a million times, but I really do mean it, Harry. You mean everything to me. I’ve done a shit job at showing you that, but you’re…” Louis dragged a hand down his face trying to find the words. He always failed when he tried to explain just how much he loved Harry. He was a doer. He showed how much he cared because words were not his forte. Songs could be considered the exception to that, but that was singing and this was talking. Those were two very different things.

“I almost didn't’ try out,” Louis admitted in lieu of finishing his earlier sentence. “We were at the stop light right before you get on the highway and I panicked. I told my mom to turn around, but she convinced me that everything would be okay. She asked me how I could think of failing even though I hadn’t even tried. That was a big part of it. Auditioning was terrifying, but you weren't’ there. My best friend wasn’t going on my big adventure with me. I couldn't leave you behind.”

Harry listened as Louis went quiet again. Louis hadn’t ever told him that before, yet one key fact had been left out. “But you told me to stay here.”

Louis was so surprised by Harry’s quiet reminder that he almost believed he’d imagined it. “I know. I think I said I didn't’ want you to see me upset if things went poorly, right?”

“Yeah. Some bullshit like that,” Harry murmured.

Louis smiled. It was a stupid reason. He’d wanted harry there regardless, but there’d been a high goal. One Louis had planned for and worked tirelessly on to achieve. “That...I lied. I wanted you there with me so badly. The first thing I wanted to do when I go in was kiss you. Do you know, do you have any idea why it took me four years to come home? Do you know why I stayed away from here for so long?”

The abrupt change in subject had Harry frowning. He’d always wondered, of course, but the contact they’d had was always so brief he never had time to bring it up. “I always thought you  were embarrassed,” Harry admitted. It had always been one of the uglier thoughts in the back of Harry’s mind. One he didn’t want to dwell on very often. Why else would Louis never come back, never speak about their sleepy little town, instead claiming the city his dad lived in was home? Why else would Louis never talk about him?

Louis’ heart squeezed uncomfortably in his chest. Embarrassed was so far from what he’d ever felt for his little town. “I was never embarrassed. I… Can I see you? I want to talk face to face. Please, Harry. Let me see you.”

Harry drew his knees close to his chest.  He’d really rather not see Louis in person. This talk was already chipping away at his resolve to get over Louis. To move on from the boy that’d broken his heart.

“Please, Harry,” Louis pleaded.

Harry took a shaky breath, pushed himself to his feet, and unlocked the door. The click of the lock opening was deafening in the tiny bathroom. Harry hesitated again. This talk was about to get a thousand times harder. He’d be seeing Louis, properly seeing him, for the first time in what felt like ages but wasn't more than a few days. Harry pulled open the door before his mind could justify hiding away any longer. He expected Louis to be on his feet, but the pop star was still sitting on the ground looking up at Harry. Without a word, Louis patted the space next to him. Harry obliged him, leaning against the wall once he was sitting. He could feel Louis looking at him, but he wouldn’t look back. 

Louis took his hand. Harry told himself to pull back, to shy away from the familiar tough. He should pull away. Louis didn't have any right to touch him anymore. But he couldn’t; he couldn't’ pull away.

“I was never embarrassed of our town. I was never embarrassed of you. I wanted to protect you. You’ve heard the stories. You know how fans get. I didn’t want to put you through that. I didn’t want this place overrun by crazy fans. Harry, you never asked to deal with all of that and I wasn't going to subject you to that just because I had some crazy dream. I was so scared that someone would hack into my computer or get a hold of my phone and find what limited contact I did have with you and ruin everything I worked so hard to protect. I’m pretty sure I have an NDA with a reporter’s dog.” Louis smiled at his own joke, trying to make light of the honesty weighing on every word, but Harry wasn’t sure how to react.

Louis squeezed his hand before continuing, “It got so lonely, though. Mark, my bodyguard before Paul, was a great guy, but he just...kept everything very professional. I couldn’t really turn to him for advice or anything. We never spent good time together. I wanted to call you so many times in the beginning. I was so scared someone might be snooping, might breach their contract.” Louis took a deep breath as he felt that fear and panic creep up even though the threat wasn’t currently present. 

“Mark brought me the alcohol. I thought he knew what he was doing. He’d been in the business for a while. It got out of control. I got out of control. I was actually worse before I got Paul. He got me back to some sort of awareness. Paul is such a dad. A really nosy, pushy guy. He made sure I did things instead of drinking alone in my room when I didn’t have official business. Doing things was great, but I was still alone at the end of the day. I know what the paps said. I’m a bit of a player apparently.” His joke fell flat yet again.

“How many were true?” Harry dared to ask. He’d always told himself he never wanted to know, but he needed to know. It was suddenly very important that he know how many others were there.

“A few,” Louis replied, albeit reluctantly.

“Louis, I need a number.”

“Harry, what--”

Harry fixed Louis with a piercing glare. “How many, Lou?”

“Two.”

Harry nodded, satisfied for now.

“If I was drinking I wasn’t feeling lonely or guilty or out of control. I felt so guilty. I left you here and I… I wanted you right there next to me at concerts and award shows and long plane rides across the world.”

“Then why didn’t’ you just call me, Louis? Why did you let yourself be so miserable?”

“I had to protect you!”

“Bullshit. You didn’t want me around. Didn’t want me to hold you back, remind you of where you actually came from,” Harry snapped.

“You really want people going through your trash and selling lies to magazines that you can’t deny because it doesn’t look good? You want to have girls and boys following you with cameras and throwing themselves in front of your car just to catch a glimpse of you? You want people pretending to be your friend because of money or prestige or a funny story? You want to be told who to spend time with and where you have to go and when you can go home? I’m sorry I kept you from that then,” Louis nearly shouted.

Harry remained unimpressed. “I still don’t see why you couldn’t just call or text me.”

“I can count on my fingers how many people I can trust. Do you remember the frenzy that happened after you went to that interview with me?” Louis asked trying to regain his earlier composure. Yelling at Harry wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

Harry nodded. It’d been so strange watching people talk and speculate about him. Sure it hadn’t been comfortable, and some of the stories had been rather sensational, but it had come and gone rather quickly. Louis’ little stunt with the paparazzi probably helped, but still. Harry had emerged on the other side of the gossip no worse for wear.

“That’s my life twenty-four-seven. People are literally paid to do that. I couldn’t risk you getting stuck there.”

“So you decided ignoring me as the best course of action?”

Louis’ frustration mounted. He was explaining the best he could, yet Harry still wasn’t getting it. “I did what I had to to keep you safe.”

“Fuck it,” Harry huffed pushing himself onto his feet. “I don’t need your protection, Lou. I can take care of myself just fine.”

Louis got to his feet as well. “I know you can, but why complicate that with my life. It was my choice to go try out. You didn’t need to suffer for that.”

Harry looked at Louis like he’d just sprouted two extra heads. “I didn’t need to suffer? Louis, that wasn’t your choice to make! I suffered every day that you were gone. My best friend left me without a backward glance or a parting word. If I want to be famous by association, I will be. You don't’ get to just shake off your best friend because you’re scared.”

“I didn’t do it because I was scared,” Louis said.

“You just said you were terrified someone might find out about me.”

“I was, still am, but that’s secondary.”

Harry dragged his hand over his face. “Then just tell me why, Lou. Why did you leave me four years ago and never come back?”

“I love you,” Louis said matter-of-factly.

Louis just said that he loved Harry. Harry just stood there looking like he might pass out. Louis… It wasn’t like Louis had never said that to him before. He had said as much multiple times, actually. He most recently said it when they’d been pressed together on the dance floor of that club they visited. He’d been drunk, though, like all the other times that sentiment had slipped out. Now he was sober, and had never sounded more certain of anything in his life.

Louis began rambling when Harry remained quiet. “Pretty sure I’m in love with you. think I’ve been that way for a while, actually. Horrendously cliche, I know, but--”

A sudden sharp sting had Louis stumbling backward. At least Harry finally reacted.

“You can’t just say something like that!” Harry scolded voice nearing hysterical.

“Why not?” Louis asked. He thought Harry would be happy Louis finally got his act together.

“Because that’s not something you fuck around with. You can’t just say that and expect me to just forget about how you strung me along. I saw you with all these people and told myself to move on, to find someone else, but I just couldn’t because you’d text me or do something adorable and I’d be stuck all over again. Clearly I should have moved on. We’d still be friends if I did and hadn’t let you break my heart.” Harry tugged at his hair trying to sort out the rush of emotions he was feeling. He was so incredibly mad at Louis; mad at him for leaving, mad at him for making these choices without him. Yet there was part of him that was begging him to just forgive Louis. To tell Louis, the boy he’d grown up with, that he loved him too; that despite it all, he was still irrevocably in love with him. “Did you ever think about how I was feeling?” This was another answer he was afraid to hear.

“Every day. I’ve thought about you every day since we met. It only got worse when I left. I hoped you could find someone who would make you happy and be there for you every day. I… That thought makes me sick. I want to be that person, but I know someone else is better for you.”

“Don’t be so fucking noble,” Harry sneered. He turned away from Louis. “I’m done. I’ve finally moved on. I’m not exactly happy, but I will be. You’ll be back on tour partying it up soon enough, and now you don’t have to worry about me. Goodbye, Lou.” Harry went up the stairs to find the door still locked. He sighed tiredly. He loved his friends--he really did--but this was too much. Harry banged on the door and called, “Guys! Let me out. This isn't’ funny anymore.”

“That’s not the codeword,” Louis told him from the bottom of the stairs.

Harry whirled around to glare at Louis Tomlinson, bane of his existence. “Was this some sort of idiotic plan to get me to talk to you?” he demanded. “Sounds like something Micaela and Marshall would cook up.”

Louis’ face remained passive. If this was how this was going to play out, Harry wouldn’t be getting the satisfaction of seeing how crushed he was feeling. “It was actually my plan.”

Harry’s lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes narrowed. “Tell me what you hoped to gain from this then.”

“I just wanted you to listen to me.”

“You made a scene in the street to make me listen to you, remember?”

Louis frowned at the boy at the top of the stairs. “If I recall, you’re the one that bolted from the bookstore. We could have had that conversation privately.”

Irritation burned in Harry’s chest. Louis did not get to be the calm one in this situation. Harry should be. He was the one with the decision made. He was the strong one. Louis should be groveling at his feet, begging for forgiveness he wasn’t going to get. “Well, I listened then,” he spat. “I don’t see why we need to be here.”

Louis raised an eyebrow, challenging Harry’s claim that he listened. If Louis was remembering correctly, Harry had done a fair bit of talking last time they’d been together. He didn’t say that though. It was obvious Harry didn't’ want to hear anything he had to say. They just stared at each other. Harry at the top of the stairs keeping his distance to stop the rest of his resolve from crumbling; Louis at the bottom tired of all the words.

“I’m an alcoholic,” Louis admitted.

Harry lost his grip on his resolve, eyes wide and mouth dropping open. “Wha--”

“My label dropped me,” Louis revealed, voice devoid of emotion.

Harry gripped the handrail, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. “Lou, I’m--”

“I love you,” Louis repeated, voice firm and sure. “I love you, Harry Styles and I know we’ve never talked about any of the things we should have. That’s my fault. I’m trying to get better. I don’t want to disappoint people anymore.” Louis dragged a hand through his hair, the only sign that he was getting desperate. He couldn’t lose Harry. “I know you’ve made your decision, but I can’t do this without you. I can’t… Please don't stop… Oh God… Please don’t stop being my friend. I’ll be happy with whatever I get, just… Please don’t leave me.”

Harry was at a loss. Louis Tomlinson, pop star extraordinaire, stood below him with tears caught in his eyelashes. Harry hadn’t seen Louis like this since they were little and had to bury Harry’s pet goldfish. (He wouldn’t let his mom just flush his first pet down the toilet.) Louis loved that fish. He named it and snuck it extra bits of food. Harry had never had the heart to tell his best friend the extra food probably killed the fish. 

Without really thinking about it, Harry found himself going back downstairs until he stood before Louis on the final step. Still, he didn’t know what to say except, “That’s a lot.”

Louis chuckled awkwardly. “I know.”

“Who else knows?”

“My mom and Lottie. Paul, obviously.”

Harry nodded. Louis would literally kill to know what was going through Harry’s head. “Why me?” Harry wondered.

That was a question Louis didn’t really have a good answer for. “I don’t know. I… I love you. It’s always you, H. You’re always in my heart. I don’t know. Can’t explain it. I just do. I just love--”

Harry--in the gloriously cliche way--pressed his lips to Louis’, cradled his best friend’s face in his hands. Louis’ fingers curled around Harry’s wrists to hold onto him as if he was afraid Harry might go back to saying they weren’t friends, weren’t everything to each other.

Harry pulled back slightly before the kiss could become anything more than a chaste affair, a gentle, reassuring thing.

“It’s your turn to listen, Lou,” Harry murmured, keeping his hands on his best friend. “We’re gonna do this, but we’re not friends. We’re a proper couple. A proper couple in love.”

Louis grinned, suddenly full of a manic sort of energy. “We’re in love?”

Harry’s cheeks flushed pink. “Yeah. We’re in love.”

Louis pressed another kiss to Harry’s lips and then along his cheeks and jaw. 

Harry giggled despite himself. “Lou,” he wheezed. “Lou, wait. I’m not done.”

As fast as it had come, Louis’ giddiness dissipated somewhat. “What else?”

“No more secrets. No more promises. No more apologies. No more making decisions for me. You gotta talk to me. I want to help you, but you gotta let me, okay. You’re not alone anymore.”

“I’m not alone anymore,” Louis recited.

They stood there quietly with each other. Harry, for the first time in what felt like ages, felt at peace. He wasn’t going back and forth about how he felt. He wasn’t berating himself for falling in the first place. He was in love with his best friend Louis Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson, the New Prince of Pop.

“Hey, Lou?”

“Hm?”

“What’s the codeword?”

“Bananas too good.”

Harry snorted. “What?”

“Marshall came up with it. Said it was some paper he wrote while in school. We wanted to be sure it wasn’t something you’d say accidentally.”

“There wasn’t something simpler that you could have used?”

Louis shook his head no. Harry shook his head at the ridiculousness of it all. Without a verbal warning, Harry placed his hands over Louis’ ears before shouting, “Bananas too good!”

There was a ruckus upstairs--scraping, thumbing, doorknob rattling. Then Micaela was whooping as she barreled down the stairs. She tackled them, tumbling to the floor in her hug while the others watched her go as they walked calmly down to the basement. “I was so hoping we’d hear that,” she gushed. “This is so exciting! now we can go on a quadruple date!”

“Wouldn’t that just be like hanging out?” Louis asked.

“Not if we do something special,” she explained.

“Where should we go on this quadruple date?” Harry asked.

“Let’s go bowling!” Micaela suggested hopping to her feet and facing the rest of the group.

“No gutter guards,” Marshall said.

Micaela looked affronted. “Yes, gutter guards. I can’t bowl without them.”

“Maybe it’s time to learn,” Marshall countered.

Micaela narrowed her eyes at Marshall as Zayn and Liam helped Louis and Harry to their feet.

“Don't’ do anything stupid,” Zayn warned. “That’s for both of you. I’m not dealing with your shit anymore.”

“Yes, sir,” Louis agreed with a cheeky smile.

Harry and Liam laughed when Zayn returned Louis’ smile with a middle finger.

They all did agree to bowling, though it ended up being an intense tournament on Micaela and Marshall’s Wii rather than at an actual alley. Louis and Harry found themselves curled up together in the corner of the couch by the end of the night watching David and Niall duke it out in the final round.

Harry was nearly asleep in Louis’ lap when the popstar asked, “When did you know you loved me?”

“When I was eighteen. I was actually listening to one of your songs. It just sort of hit me I guess.”

“That’s deep,” Louis teased.

“Fuck off,” Harry muttered with a soft hit aimed at Louis’ shoulder.

Their quiet moment was interrupted by an anguished cry from Niall as his ball spun into the gutter in the tenth frame. David pumped his arms up in victory. Niall flopped to the ground in defeat. He immediately sat back up though with a purple box in his hands.

“Guys, why is there a box of condoms under your couch?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what are our thoughts?


	12. Fireproof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're now meeting one of my new favorite characters. I'm a little bit in love with her :)

“Ma, what are you doing?” Louis asked as he came into the kitchen.

“I’m making cookies,” she said just before Harry turned on the mixer.

“It looks more like Harry is making cookies,” Louis remarked.

Louis’ mom waited until Harry was finished mixing before replying, “I’m directing him, so I’m making the cookies.”

Harry handed him one of the beaters with a smile and Louis decided to drop the argument that Harry was clearly the one making the cookies. Instead he asked, “Why are you making cookies?”

“Those interview people are coming over. They’ll want cookies,” Louis’ mom explained.

“It’s part of being a good host,” Harry added. His eyes got caught on Louis’ tongue licking up the batter. Louis smirked, happily putting on a show for his boyfriend. Boyfriend. Harry Styles was his boyfriend. There was nothing better than that. And soon the whole world would know it.

“Louis, cut that out,” Louis’ mom scolded, snapping Louis back to the fact that he was standing in his mother’s kitchen miming what he planned on doing to Harry after this interview on a beater.

Harry snickered while Louis blushed and hurried to drop the beater in the sink with a, “Sorry mom.”

“You were so much more discreet when this wasn’t official,” his mom muttered as she handed a spoon to Harry so he could put the batter on a tray.

Louis decided to push the mortification of that comment down. Luckily, he didn’t have to work too hard to do that because the doorbell rang. R.C. Irvin, Louis’ favorite interviewer, was here. Louis Tomlinson the Pop Star was falling into place as Louis went to answer the door. Being Louis Tomlinson the Pop Star came with prepared answers that evaded some questions entirely and gave vague responses for fans to analyze. Hopefully R.C. Irvin could shake that persona away like she always had before. Louis the Normal Person was counting on it.

R.C. looked the same as ever when Louis pulled open the door. Tall with pale skin and dark hair that fell to her waist, R.C. was only a few years older than Louis and was one of the few people he’d really gotten to know. Her lips were classically red. Her curves showcased nicely in her jeans and flannel shirt. She took off her dark sunglasses to assess him with those dark eyes of hers.

“You look like shit,” was her greeting of choice today.

“Wish I could say the same for you,” Louis returned with a smirk.

He stepped back to let her in as her eyes rolled. One the door was closed, she stooped down to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s been too long,” she murmured while wiping the lipstick stain from his cheek. “You can’t disappear like that again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Louis teased.

R.C. narrowed her eyes, almost snapped at him for calling her ma’am (she wasn’t that old, honestly), but her attention was captured by something behind Louis. Louis turned to see Harry coming out of the kitchen. “And who do we have here?” R.C. asked Louis, lips curling in a nearly predatory smile.

Harry had frozen once he’d been noticed. Louis had told him a lot about R.C., and he was assuming this woman was R.C. She lived up to everything Louis had said. Quite frankly, Harry was a little intimidated.

“R.C., this is my boyfriend, Harry. Harry, this is my friend R.C.”

“Boyfriend? You weren’t kidding when you said you had a lot to catch me up on,” R.C. said clearly surprised Louis had someone serious in his life. “It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, R.C. I’ve read a lot of the stuff you’ve written about Lou.” Harry hadn’t been nervous before--loved the idea of Louis doing an interview--but found himself suddenly self-conscious with R.C.’s attention focused on him. This was supposed to be about Louis. R.C. always made sure her articles were unique and more about just music and who Louis was supposedly with. He realized now, that this article would also be about him, and he found that a tad terrifying.

“H, you okay?” Louis asked as he watched Harry start to panic.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Harry heard himself admit. His brain was telling him to run away and stay to help Louis. He was too focused on that to watch what he said around a reporter even if she wasn't the Rita Skeeter type.

Louis left R.C.’s side to go to Harry. He wrapped him up in a hug and told him quietly, “I can do this by myself. You can play with the girls.” He knew this might happen. His Harry wasn’t one to actively seek to divulge his personal life and that’s what this article was for. Sure, Louis had plenty to talk about, which was the reason he called R.C., but one thing was his relationship which Harry was the other half of. He wasn’t going to hide Harry away and let speculation mount. He’d been dying to tell the world about the love of his life agreeing to see if they could make this work since Micaela and Marshall’s basement.

Harry looked to where he could see the girls having a tea party in the living room. He’d already RSVP’d as a no, but if he asked nicely he was sure they'd let him join them. “No. I’ll do it with you. Us against the world, like old times.”

“You can look over it before I publish it,” R.C. said from her spot just inside the door. “I’ll make whatever changes you want.”

Louis kissed him on the cheek, keeping it as PG as he could in front of R.C.

“Harry, can you get the cookies out of the oven,” Louis’ mom called from the kitchen. “And Louis offer that poor girl a seat and something to drink.”

Harry and R.C. both laughed while Louis played at annoyance. He was damn lucky Harry knew how to host things properly.

“I love your mom,” R.C. told him with a laugh as they moved into the dining room.

Paul greeted her with a hug, Harry and Jay brought out chocolate chip cookies and milk, and everyone finally settled around the table. R.C. pulled out a blank legal pad and a tape recorder. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail before fixing Louis with a look that did not bode well for him. she loved a good story, and Louis...she’d always said he was an excellent story. “So, a boyfriend, huh?”

 

**Fireproof**

**By R.C. Irvin**

So, Louis Tomlinson has a boyfriend. Like a serious-as-shit boyfriend, but we’ll get to that later. I just wanted to be sure I had your attention. Don’t skip ahead to that part either, because that’s lame and you’d get a fuck you instead of a thank you from me. This is a long-ass article and you’d have wasted your money to just read a tiny bit of it.

Anywho.

**_ The Hometown _ **

Louis Tomlinson, my part-time nemesis, didn’t grow up in that pricey apartment in Asheville. His dad moved there after the divorce. He had a reason to lie to us--it’s another thing I’ll get to later--but he’s now coming clean. Louis grew up with his mom in Bryson, a town about an hour away from Asheville. Bryson screams small town America. Family-owned businesses line the streets with their original signs hanging over the sidewalks. There’s barely any traffic--thank God--and freakishly friendly people who kept waving at me. Seriously. These people have never seen me and they’re waving. If I hadn’t had a job to do, I probably would have high-tailed it outta there.

The house that Louis actually grew up in is freaking adorable. It’s this classic two-story brick affair with a blue door and blue shutters. There’s chalk drawings on the sidewalk and driveway under overturned bikes and a soccer ball. I almost wanted to ask if I could stick around a little longer, maybe even move in. Louis’ mom was seconds away from asking me to after our little talk. I helped with the dishes and everything. I’m very charming when I want to be. She made these cookies that were fantastic. Wouldn’t give me the recipe, which I felt was rude, but they were so good. I think she should make them for every concert so that y’all can try them. They’re to die for. But I digress…

**Q: Why in the world did you hide your little town from us?**

**Louis:** There’s...I...Protection. I wanted to protect this little town from all the craziness. You know how the fans can get. I love them to death, but I didn’t want to put everyone through that, and my dad is in Asheville, so I thought I could keep everyone here safe.

**Harry:** (This is the boyfriend that I’ll get to later. Promise.) Lou…

**Louis:** Yeah, yeah. My main concern was my family and Harry. I… My life is nuts and I wanted to make sure that that didn’t affect them. It was always for them. I wasn’t embarrassed about my home. I just wanted to keep it safe. Harry got mad at me for that. Apparently I was making decisions for him without thinking about his feelings.

**Harry:** You were making decisions for me without thinking about my feelings. But that’s not what R.C. asked us about.

**_ The Disappearing Act _ **

As you all know, Louis left the spotlight four months ago. He’s been silent on social media, hasn’t teased us with a preview for a new song or anything, and hasn’t confirmed or denied any of the rumors floating about. There are plenty of rumors. Louis quit when his management began to force him into a box he wasn’t comfortable with. Louis got some girl pregnant and was coming home to her and the new baby. Louis was quitting to become an actor. Louis was hiding away in a drug den with a harem of sorts. All of those rumors were ludicrous of course--I never gave them any stock--but their supporters were scary adamant about the truth behind the words.

**Q: Why did you disappear on us?**

**Louis:** That’s a really big question. Kinda encompasses everything that I want to talk about today. I guess though, that I’ll start at the beginning. I have a drinking problem. It started early in my career and just progressed. I’ve been performing with at least a little buzz since my first Ellen interview. It kept the nerves away. It kept the… I had a lot of guilt about hiding all of this.

My temper’s pretty bad as it is, and the drinking made it worse. I got in a couple fights as you know. I got arrested, spent the night in jail, and knew it was bad. It’d all gotten out of control. Paul just watched me suffer in the forsaken holding cell all night. I think I fired him three or four times. He refused to leave. Said he was in “too deep”.

I was so happy when Harry visited me for that week. It just reminded me of all of what I’d left behind and was missing and what I loved. I wanted to go back home with him when he left. Watching him get on that plane was the worst thing I’ve had to do in a long time. So I knew that going home was what I’d needed to do. Four years is so long. It’s such a long time.

**Q: So what’s next on your docket?**

**Louis:** Stop asking such vague questions. It’s literally all connected. Up next… Up next…

Well, my label dropped me. Said I was a liability instead of an asset. Guess that’s what happens when you push a guy with a camera out of your way. So, I’m gonna need a new one of those. Paul is gonna help me there. He’s got a connections; been in the business a lot longer than I have. I’ve started working out my problems. I’ve found a therapist who is willing to travel around the world with me. It’s not going to be easy, and I’m not going to do this well. It’s probably going to get really ugly as we go along, but I’m going to do it. I’m going to get better.

**Harry:** And I’m going to be with him every step of the way.

Louis and Harry gave each other these disgustingly in love looks after Harry’s little declaration. I nearly lost my cookies.

**_The Boyfriend_ **

So, now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for.

We shooed Louis and his dear mother away. I kept Paul around so that Harry would feel more comfortable and not like I was prying around into his personal life--even though I was definitely prying. It’s what I do best after all.

Harry Styles is a tall boy with this lovely mop of curly hair that I will tug on in the future with Louis’ permission. He lives down the street in an equally as charming house with his mother. He has an older sister who works as a veterinarian assistant. There’s apparently a treehouse in his backyard that he and Louis would spend hours in. I made darling Harry promise me that he’d show it to me next time I was in town.

**Q: How in the world did you get Louis to settle down?**

**Harry:** You know as well as I do that Louis is not half the player everyone else thinks he is.

I don’t really know if I got Louis to settle down. I… I was so mad at him for leaving me behind. Especially after that stunt outside that gig he went to see. I’d followed his career diligently, trying not to let things bother me. Louis is my best friend. I was worried, naturally, but I…

Feelings are pesky. They wouldn’t go away no matter how hard I tried. And I tried hard. I was so mad at him. He was making decisions for me and being all noble saying he was protecting me. He’s such an idiot sometimes. I was gonna get over him. Move on. Find someone around here, but Louis, like the stubborn shit he is, wouldn’t leave me alone no matter how many times I told him to. Our friends ended up barricading us into their basement. The put a couch in front of the door and everything. They had this ridiculous codeword we were supposed to use when we were ready to be let out.

Anyway, we shouted at each other, revealed some feelings, and ended up kissing on the couch.

**Q: Kissing? That’s it?**

**Harry:** That’s it. (He says with a lovely pink blush on those pinchable cheeks.)

**Q: Alright then. Let’s back up. How long have you known each other? What was he like as a little kid? Have you guys done _it_?**

**Harry:** We’ve known each other for as long as I can remember. He was literally the same as he is now. He hasn’t changed a bit. I don’t think I have to answer that last one if I don’t want to.

**Q: Louis is hovering just behind me right?**

**Harry:** Yeah. He’s just making sure I’m alright. I’m...not exactly used to all this just yet.

**Q: That’s gross--the hovering, not you. You just talk to me and you won’t have to get used to all the crazies. Lou and I will keep you safe. Let’s look to the future, then. What are you going to be up to when Louis goes back on tour?**

**Harry:** I’m going on tour with him. I won’t be left behind again.

 

Later that night, tucked into Louis’ childhood bed (complete with the accidentally pink sheets from the one time Fizzy did the laundry), Harry and Louis were still awake. Harry was tucked against Louis’ side with his head resting on Louis’ chest. Louis was running his hands through Harry’s hair, keeping it out of his face as they caught their breath.

Louis’ mind was buzzing. The interview with R.C. had gone really well. Harry had done brilliantly. R.C. loved him. Everything was going to be great now. There was just one thing that Louis wasn’t so sure about. “Did you mean it?”

Harry craned his neck so he could look up at what turned out to be Louis’ chin. His boyfriend was looking resolutely at the ceiling. “Did I mean what?”

“Were you serious when you said you’d come on tour with me?”

Harry grinned, pressed a kiss to Louis’ chest, and said, “Of course I was serious.”

“Touring isn’t all fun and games, you know,” Louis murmured as he finally looked at Harry.

Harry twisted so that he could plant a firm kiss to Louis’ lips. Louis caught him before he could pull back, deepening the kiss with a soft moan into Harry’s mouth and a tug on the curls at the top of his neck. “I know that,” Harry whispered when Louis let him pull back to answer. “But it’s my decision to make.”

Louis pressed their foreheads together, fighting the urge to stop Harry from doing this to himself, but he acquiesced. “It’s your decision. I love you.” And then, “Fuck. We are sappy shits, aren’t we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts and feelings about this penultimate chapter? I can't believe it's almost the end!


	13. Act My Age

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness! It's the last one! Thank you all so much for reading this! It all means so much! I never actually thought this day would come. 
> 
> XOXOX
> 
> Marshall, hope you like this last bit!

Micaela pushed the last of the trash into the third trash bag and tied it off. She dragged it to the back door to wait until the morning to take it all out. She’d bribe Marshall to do it with food or money or something. It’d be easier to do it herself right now, honestly, but she was lazy and it was too cold outside. She could wait.

Back in the living room, Zayn and Liam were helpfully asleep on the couch. Niall and David were rehashing the rematch bowling game Niall had lost again as they folded up the decorations and put them in bags. Marshall still had his party hat on while he sat in their purple armchair scrolling through his phone. Micaela accepted the packed decorations from David and put them in the kitchen before squeezing into the chair with Marshall.

“Why do you have your hat on still?” Micaela asked.

She’d bought polka-dot party hats for their parties, and had long since taken hers off, but Marshall still had his on. Micaela pulled it up and let it snap back on Marshall’s head.

Her best friend gave her an indignant look before saying, “Because I want it on.”

Niall interrupted before Micaela could say anything else. “Come here and give me a hug and kiss before I go,” he told Micaela.

“So needy,” Micaela teased as she got out of the chair. 

Micaela wrapped her arms around Niall’s middle, resting her chin on his chest so he could kiss her. She giggled as one kiss turned into several peppered over her face.

The giggles apparently woke up Zayn who grumbled, “Get a fucking room.” Naturally, this made everyone else chuckle only adding to Zayn’s tired annoyance. “Fuckers,” he muttered.

An equally exhausted Liam mumbled, “Be nice.” without opening his eyes.

Zayn rolled into his boyfriend a little more earning a pat on the back from Liam before they both fell back asleep.

Micaela tried to stay quiet, but everyone knew it was nearly impossible for her to do that. She took Niall’s face in her hands and placed an over-the-top kiss for a final goodbye for tonight. David made a gagging sound as they broke apart. Micaela’s fingers dragged out at her insistence. There’d been this picture she’d discovered of Niall sunburned pink with this stubble on an island far far away. She and Marshall had both swooned.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow afternoon,” Niall said as they walked to the front door. “You all packed?”

“Yeah. I’m excited,” she whispered.

“Me too,” Niall agreed with an equally as wide grin as hers. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she murmured so only Niall could hear. It earned her one more soft kiss before Niall was out the door.

She returned to only Zayn and Liam in the living room. She pulled a blanket from their Blanket Basket in the corner of the room and covered them with it. She kissed each of their foreheads after turning off the light.

She checked the door’s lock before turning to the stairs. Her fingers brushed over the boxes from Ikea Marshall had come home with today. He and David were shopping for their offices and new apartment. Her stomach clenched at the thought of coming back to an empty house. It would be so strange. She’d thought about moving somewhere else. It’d be silly for her to have the whole house to herself. She was dragging her feet though. Moving would change things so much, make all the changes that were happening so much more real. Micaela shook those thoughts away. Everything would be okay. Change, as Niall often reminded her, was not always a bad thing.

She climbed the stairs to her room. A black duffel bag was the only change in her space. It was packed as lightly as possible per Niall’s instruction. They were heading south tomorrow afternoon. Micaela was both excited and nervous. It was such a big change from her usual routine. She’d be completely removed from any routine. Marshall told her, “It’s an opportunity to grow.” That hardly quelled any of her nerves. So much could happen. Niall just kissed her and squeezed her hand when she talked about her worries. He knew she’d be fine, but nothing he could say would get through.

As she got ready for bed, Micaela heard David leaving and Marshall coming up. He poked his head in her room to say goodnight before crossing the hall to his room. Micaela tumbled into bed pulling the magazine she’d bought today. Louis and Harry were on the front cover sitting on swings in the park. They were holding hands and grinning at the camera. R.C. had come down, and on the tour of town lead by Louis and Harry, they’d been able to meet her. She flipped to the article, ready to read through it before bed, but found herself unable to focus.

She huffed, letting the magazine fall to her lap. From across the hall, she could hear music coming from Marshall’s room. She smiled to herself, finding her lips making the words without her decision to do so.

Micaela threw the covers off and padded across the hall to Marshall’s room. A gentle knock announced her and then she was inside. Marshall was in bed with his computer balanced on his lap. The copy of the magazine she’d brought him was on the floor next to his bed. He smiled at her and pulled back the blankets as she came in. Micaela crawled in next to him and cuddled close so she could see what he was looking at on the computer.

“What’s up?” He asked her.

“Couldn’t focus. I was trying to read the article R.C. wrote.”

Marshall nodded, continuing to scroll through Tumblr. Micaela opened the article once more and found it much easier to read. She laughed and pointed out the funny things R.C. said to Marshall. He’d show her cat videos that come up on his feed. Once he refreshed the page, the cat videos became pictures of Louis and Harry at tonight’s award show. Most of them were normal pictures with them side by side and smiling. Later pictures became a little more interesting. Louis photobombed several other celebrities dragging a very embarrassed Harry into the picture’s edge. In a few of the pictures, Louis had managed to convince Harry to make a funny face with him. Those were Marshall and Micaela’s favorites. 

“He’s like an overgrown five year old,” Micaela mused fondly.

“So is Harry, though. Look at this.” Marshall showed her a picture of Harry with some female celebrity Micaela couldn’t place. He was holding her hand and pointing at her, mouth open wide in a surprised grin like he couldn’t believe who he was standing next to.

“They’re so ridiculous. I’m so glad we got them together,” Micaela said.

“I know, right? Like, we did that.”

They grinned at each other, proud that they’d been integral parts of Louis and Harry’s relationship.

With a yawn, Micaela pulled away from Marshall, flopping onto the pillow. Marshall closed his computer, placed it carefully on his nightstand, and settled in next to her.

“You’re my very best friend, Marshall,” Micaela confided. “I’m going to miss you, boo.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” Marshall murmured.

“Don't’ go replacing me,” Micaela instructed trying to clear away the thick tears that had suddenly cropped up in her throat.

“I could never,” Marshall assured. “As long as you don’t go replacing me with some exotic kid you meet in Peru.”

Micaela giggled softly. “I feel like the language barrier may make that difficult, but I’ll do my best.”

Marshall scoffed and playfully shoved her, barely jostling her from her spot. 

His phone vibrated making both of them jump as the quiet they’d settled into was disturbed. He reached for it and found a snap from Louis. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to seeing Louis’ name pop up on my phone,” Marshall said as he thumbed open the picture. 

It was a picture of Louis and Harry at an afterparty of some sort captioned with “We love you guys! XOXO”. Another snap came in before Micaela and Marshall could reply. This one was just Harry with an exaggerated sad face painted over his features. The words “I’m gonna miss you” followed by a string of crying emojis captioned his picture. The best friends were going to snap back, but then Harry texted both of them. 

**Harry:** Can’t believe you guys are leaving me. :( _Sent Today 1:34 a.m._

**Marshall:** Pretty sure you were the one to leave us first.  _ Sent Today 1:35 a.m. _

**Harry:** At least I’m still in the same country. _Sent Today 1:35 a.m._

**Micaela:** Your fault for introducing me to Niall _Sent Today 1:36 a.m._

**Harry:** I told you to stay away from him. _Sent Today 1:37 a.m._

**Micaela:** But then I’d be sad and lonely.  _ Sent Today 1:38 a.m. _

**Harry:** You wouldn’t be lonely. You have all of us. _Sent Today 1:39 a.m._

“I see how it is,” Marshall teased with another playful nudge. Micaela just rolled her eyes and replied to Harry.

**Micaela:** It’s not the same. Y’all can’t kiss and cuddle like Niall. _Sent Today 1:40 a.m._

**Harry:** TMI _Sent Today 1:41 a.m._

**Marshall:** You can’t say anything, Harry. You and Louis basically fucked in our bathroom and I had to walk in on it. _Sent Today 1:43 a.m._

“Wait! When did this happen?” Micaela asked.

“Zayn’s birthday party. I am scarred for life,” Marshall groaned. 

“You should have gotten a picture. We could have made millions.”

Marshall gave her a look, one that said she was both a genius and completely insane. “You’ve failed to get me pictures of the cute boys you run into all the time. You have no room to say anything.”

“Shut up,” Micaela grumbled. “And tell Harry goodnight. It’s too late for this.”

**Marshall:** Goodnight, babes. You and Lou have fun tonight! We’ll hear all about it tomorrow!” _Sent Today 1:57 a.m._

**Harry:** Goodnight! You’ll never believe what’s been going on! _Sent Today 2:00 a.m._

Marshall put his phone on the table and settled back into the pillows. Micaela rolled over to tuck into his side. “So we’re gonna meet up at your place when I get back and we’re all gonna be together again and celebrate, right?”

“The moment you are back on American soil we are having a party and I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

“Four months,” Micaela said quietly.

“Four months.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I suppose it's official now. I've written you a fanfiction, Marshall, and I hope you've enjoyed the extended Christmas present that this is. I've had a lot of fun writing this and hope you've enjoyed reading it. That's a lie. I know you've enjoyed reading it. :) I can't believe it's only been a little over a month since you went to Vienna. It feels like much longer. But you'll be back soon. Then you can't leave me ever again. It's rude and makes me miss you too much.
> 
> Love you Boo! Hope you've enjoyed your present :)
> 
> XOXO  
> ~Remi

**Author's Note:**

> So, what did you think?
> 
> Questions, comments, and concerns are always welcomed in the comments below.
> 
> Hit me up here! [ Remi Collette Aponi ](remicolletteaponi.tumblr.com)


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